


Castigo

by Gavorche_san



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Abduction, Eventual Romance, External Advisor, F/M, Gang, Romance, Secretary positions, adult, creeping, mafia, one-sided pinging, vongola
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2020-10-26 23:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavorche_san/pseuds/Gavorche_san
Summary: Xanxus x OC“The Man looks like divorce papers and a restraining order with a bottle of Pinot Noir.” Reborn just smiled at her. “I will not be getting married. Especially to him.”





	1. Man-Crusher Margo

**Man-Crusher Margo**

Margaret Adesso, better known as  _ man-crusher  _ Margo, was a well put together woman. 

Sky-high heels, a fitted wardrobe of expensive brand names, perfect hair that never went ary and makeup that a movie star would pine for. Stockings and garters on her off days. At her worst times, she looked  _ good _ . She knew she did. That was her image, her reputation, her pride, and joy. She saw it from the way people turned and watched her, the way she intimated large men with a single glance. 

But today, it had all gone to hell. Sweatpants,  _ no _ makeup, and sneakers that looked about twenty years old. But since everything else had gone to hell, her appearance might as well match. 

She wasn’t expecting to punch a man-boy in the middle of a lobby that day, but hey,  _ these things happen.  _

The man was technically her ex-boyfriend. The whore, he had been calling his more fun side girlfriend, was half-naked behind him. He almost fell back, pissing his pants. The workers at the hotel stood mouth agape as she turned to the  ** _better _ ** girl. The said girl screamed like a baby and fell back in a faint as Margo turned to her. 

That wasn’t going to stop her. With the Sack of Potatoes Slut down, the ex-boyfriend was quick to follow. She even held back just a little, leaving as some people were calling the cops. She flipped the jammer in her pocket on, giving her a few minutes.

She turned, walking out of the cheap hotel, into the road and away from the imminent disaster that was likely going to bite her in the butt tomorrow. Not that the police could do much, as the boyfriend that had thrown the first punch, but they would harass her, and it would be bad press  _ when she didn’t want any press.  _

It would be embarrassing, and her  _ famiglia  _ would be all over it, to say the least. But the jerk definitely deserved it. Margo had known it was only a matter of time before her loser that had blackmailed her to date him actually did something she could use. 

Arrogant, stupid mafiosos. He could have had a little more pride though. She was at least a 9 on a bad day, unlike this 5 on a good day.

But now, with her little show, she would convince that she was truly heartbroken, not just annoyed that he took so long to take a misstep. When she finally found the computer chip he held on her, she danced with joy. It had been a horror because it had also been connected to the various porn and hook-up sites. From there it was all too easy. She, after all, was a rather good detective. 

She hoped his ‘five years of planning’ to entrap her was worth it.

Her plain silver car was where she had left it, parked around the block. Without a second look, she opened the door, sliding in. She threw on a leather jacket, sunglasses, and some hot red lipstick before letting the tires screech against the road.

She looked like a different person as she sped away, giving the middle finger salute to the trashy, rock-bottom town that she had been stuck in for the last six months. 

As if on cue, the car Bluetooth picked up a call. She answered it, rolling down the window to enjoy the brisk countryside air. Mornings could have their perks.

“Ciao Ciao.”

“ _ Buongiorno. You are just a doll, bella, you know.” _

_ “ _ _ Lucrezia _ . Figures you would find me first. _ ”  _ She could feel the pursing of lips on the other end.

“ _ Cara mia _ , how can you think I had to find you? I always knew where you were. I just figured you could use some  _ updating _ after that little show you pulled.”

“What do you want?” A moment of silence.

“Do you find me so heartless that I wouldn’t help you when you’re in a tight spot?”

“Hmph. Like I could ever trust you to have such pure intent. I remember that time in Australia when you-” 

“Mafia daughter indeed,  _ man-crusher.  _ No need for such words.”

“Stop calling me that stupid nickname.”

“Hm, it doesn’t fit, but it is  _ your _ reputation. When was your last real date?”

“ _ Lucrezia _ , skip the nonsense. I don’t have time for this. I am on the run from assault charges.” A chuckle and the woman’s voice got deeper. 

“Japan. Everything is set up for you to leave. It was a special request from an old friend.” She chuckled at some unknown joke she wouldn’t explain.

“What’s the job?” Margo said, sighing as she weaved through traffic.

“The Vongola has-”

“ _ No.”  _ Margot swerved dangerously around a tight corner, tires squealing. Someone screamed at her and she ignored it. “I didn’t leave the frying pan to jump into the fire.” She scared the crap out of another car as she cut it off, causing it to pull over and honk madly.

“ _ Just liste _ n Man-Crusher. your impatience will get you killed one day.”

“But not tomorrow in Japan.” 

“Margo.” Her voice was firm, but the young woman rolled her eyes. Ugh, she was getting serious.

“I would be  _ molto stupido  _ to go anywhere near  _ the _ Vongola. They aren’t any friend to the Adesso Family, and even if they were  _ nice, _ I wouldn’t poke them with a ten-foot-long stick.”

“Your  _ famiglia _ would be more than pleased if I let it slip that I thought I knew where you were moonlighting in America...” Margo seized the steering wheel.

“ _ Jebiesz Jeze-” _

“Your language skills ever grow,  _amore_. I guess the American Sherlock Holmes really doesn’t stop expanding her repertoire. Polish?”

“You are  _ my  _ Mycroft. You are the one that taught me that the most important words to learn in any language are swearing.  _ So revealing _ , and I find Polish so enlightening.”

The woman on the other side of the phone gave a dry laugh, clearly more entertained than appropriate. 

“Give it a chance. Just meet them.”

Margo went a little slower. After a minute she came to some decision, moving towards the airport parking lot. She and Lucrezia bantered a bit more, and she put her on her burner phone when she took the car into the rental shop. She walked into the lobby, still talking on the phone. She approached expedited security, Fake ID ready.

“Anything else you want to tell me before the adventure begins?”

“Just make sure to catch your flight. Just give them a chance. They’ve got a young boss who's been making big changes.”

For a moment the mysterious Lucrezia was silent, meaning something there was actually something she was hesitant about. Margo paused as the man took her things, leading her through some backrooms and into a private lounge.

“Margo....be careful.  _ Reborn _ was the one to request me to send you. He is apparently the tutor for the new Vongola  _ ragazzo _ .”

She felt her chest tighten. The  _ Reborn? _

“...Reborn? As in...”

“Yes. I was stunned when he contacted me. Normally I ignore requests from such Hitman, but he has a certain way of making a woman beg him.”

“I didn’t know you were a romantic.” Margo jokes, watching planes move around the area.

“Ha. I’m a romantic like he is a sentimental. The man had a gun to my head before I could say no. He threatened to send the Varia both our ways if we needed convincing.”

“What a charming proposal.”

“Indeed. I wouldn’t mind opening a few things more for him if he were a bit older.” Margo raised an eyebrow, punching in the information her phone she had just received. 

“I guess I’ll discover that when I meet him.” 

The older woman gave a smart laugh.

“Good luck _ , man-crusher.” _ Margo ended the call and tucked the phone in the canvas bag she had slung over her shoulder. She entered the check-in desk, contemplated the piss poor job they did locating weapons, missing the knife in her jacket pocket.

Within minutes she had entered the plane, seated in economy.

“Cheap.” She muttered though she had an entire row to herself. The stewardess seemed to ignore the bag she left on the seat next to her. Just for the sake of pissing of Lucrezia, she ordered some of the more expensive fare there, even some wine that she didn’t end up drinking. It would be stupid to get drunk, but if anyone was watching, she wanted to catch them off their guard 

Next stop, a new position across the world in a small city in Japan. 


	2. Agent Provocateur

Xanxus Vongola stared at the email before him on the pop-out computer his desk normally hid. His legs were raised to rest on the other half of the desk, deceptively relaxed. He swirled his drink in his hand as he hit the digital signature, knowing it was his only option. 

He swore profusely. 

______________________

_ ~ Namomori Airport ~ _

Too many hours later, and she found herself in the exit queue of the plane. She was still wearing the sweater and ponytail combo she had on before but had managed to put on some decent mascara and eyeliner. 

She looked out of the airport windows. Namimori, Japan. A strange place for a Mafia family like the Vongola to be in.

Doubtless, she’d soon be feeling the balmy humidity. She frowned, knowing that it would be a beast to her straightening iron, but her skin would look marvelous. So... small plus? She picked up her bag. No one stood out, signaled, or did anything to indicate they were waiting for her.

Perhaps the Vongola didn’t know she was here? Rude, but it may work in her favor.

She slung her canvas duffel over her shoulder, ready to rent to a cheap hotel, or do anything, to catch a few shut-eye.

“Ciaossu, Man-Crusher.” She paused. It had been a long time since someone had sneaked up on her like so. Margo turned her head to see the owner of the shockingly high voice.

She looked right, then left. 

Nothing.

She looked down. 

Nothing still.

Finally, with a sigh, she turned to a pillar that was behind her. A small panel popped out from the column and she was met face to face with a small toddler, a tiny lizard on his adorable hat.

He looked up from under the brim, giving the most intense stare she had ever seen a baby give. Giant black eyes stared into her soul as curly-cues ringlets surrounded his face. A giant yellow pacifier rested on his small chest, over the orange tie that matched the band on his hat. 

_ He was adorable. _

Her smirk widened considerably.

_ Wouldn’t mind opening my legs for him, if he were a bit older. _

_ Her mind whizzed at the implications, the probabilities of such a thing. _

_ Ha. _

_ Hahaha... _

_ Ah haha haha....... _

She may have been tempted to actually voice her laughter if the thing hadn’t pulled a rather unfriendly looking gun on her.

“Ah, Reborn, I presume.” She said more politely. Reborn tilted his hat, jumping in her arms. For a moment she was caught off guard, but then started walking, feeling the baby nudge her.

“I can see your a smart one, Margo-Chan.” She raised an eyebrow at the switch to Japanese as if he was testing her already. 

“Japan of all places. Not that I don’t enjoy a taste of the Orient, but it seems a rather strange place for a business call _ not _for the Yakuza.” She saw the baby side-eye her, evaluating something in his large black eyes. She wondered if she was passing his evaluation. Just what was this super-intelligent baby capable of?

“This is a detail requires specific expertise.” She sighed, skipping the carousel doors. She walked past a terrified customs officer who Reborn had sent a few Vongola to chat_ with earlier_. Once outside, she spotted a black car, discreet and Japanese.

Once inside the baby hopped off her, going to sit across. On the other side of the door, a latch opened, various wines and high-grade Japanese alcohol chilling in the built-in fridge. Reborn poured a small cup of red wine, and Margo took a water bottle from the cooler. Finally, someone who knew how to treat a prospective hire. 

Was he after some tidbit of information, or was it her figure he considered to use as a gorgeous femme fatal?

“Now, despite all your pretty words, I have a hard time thinking that the great Reborn would ever need a simple woman like me.”

The baby smirked a little too wide for her to relax. She suddenly wished she had put a little more thought into her _ I’m devastating but determined to look great._ This was a baby who made her feel like she should have come dressed to this appointment to kill.

Which seemed like an ironic statement, since he might have called her just to kill her. But she was hoping, _ given the fact that he had a short job for her. _Right, it would be right up his ally to just call in his hit and kill them when convenient.

Reborn tipped his drink to her. “Margo-Chan, both of us know that you are okay with your detective work.” She was about to take a sip of water but stopped. She didn’t say anything, just giving him a sharp look over her water bottle. He smirked, and that uncomfortable feeling grew into her chest. It was never good when a person like Reborn said things like that. 

“Now don’t get put out too much, Man-crusher. I have another job in mind for you.” She tilted her head, officially perturbed.

For a while, neither broke the silence, her watching the scenery, him watching her. The day was beautiful, but she felt the exhaustion kicking in. She wasn’t prepared to struggle and barter. While looking at the tiled roof houses, the strange partitions, and more often, _ danchi _ apartments with small windows. She liked the homey feeling it gave off, despite her never visiting before. 

There was a strange feeling of old meeting new. She sort of had a feeling it wasn’t just the houses, but maybe her. 

“You are a scary... thing, Reborn. I’m not quite sure what to expect from you.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, _ Man-crusher. _ The job will need an aspect of you that is highly undervalued.” The way he said it... So this is what Lucrezia must have meant when she inferred that he had a way with the women.

A skeptical eyebrow was raised, along with a slight smile. Now he was resorting to underhanded praise? Maybe his light dismissal of her renowned skills as a private investigator was to make her more open to his later praise.

“Oh. Don’t make me hot under the collar, signore Reborn.” The tone was far to mature for a baby, but she was starting to get the feeling that this was no baby.

The car slowed down, parking in front of a rather plain simple house she wouldn’t have picked as a hideout, which must have meant they wanted to keep it under the covers. She was getting a little excited. 

She smiled heatedly as the baby raised his glass, smirking.

“_ Congratulazioni dottore,_ you are the _ Decimos’ _ new _ segretaria _.”

She was out of the car in three seconds, walking down the road, away from the damn baby. 

Until she found his gun in her face again. 

_ “ _ _ po'shyol 'na hui, Reborno-” _

“Ah Russian as well? You are going to do just fine.” He said, sitting on her shoulder as he forced her to the front door or a house with a mailbox signed to the Sawada family.


	3. Black Site

Over the years Tsunayoshi Sawada had become accustomed to the insanity that had started when an infant forcefully became his tutor. Since starting as a middle schooler, he had gone through the deepest aberrations of purgatory and managed to stumble his way back, albeit presently sporting the title of the Tenth Vongola Boss. 

Finally, in the last year of high school, he had accepted that being the Vongola boss was something he was going to have to make the best of. Changing the structure of the family from _the looming_ Italian threat to a vigilante enforcement squad was not an easy task.

At seventeen he was older and more sophisticated, but he still found himself on occasion at the mercy of the whims of his hitman tutor.

He had just gotten home, shoving off his shoes, when he saw Reborn. The baby had been off on a few ‘errands’ and Tsuna had thought he might have seen Nirvana.

Immediately he was on his guard, as the Hitman gave a small simper. The one that meant no good. Especially when he was masquerading as an infant.

The baby had retained the ability to switch between his Arcobaleno form, via the rainbow wristwatch he nicked a long time ago, and Tsuna had learned to anticipate that the baby form was when he was up to the worst sort of surprise.

“Ah, I thought you were going to be gone.” 

_ SLAM. _

The Hitman hit his head with his small foot, throwing him to the ground.

“Aaaiiii! Reborn!”

“I’m never gone, No-Good Tsuna! Now prepare yourself! I have a brand new member for your _ famiglia _.” 

Tsuna, used to the battering, raised his head. “Wha? Reborn, you can’t just do this again!” 

He was answered with another kick. Tsuna clutched his forehead, scrambling up.

“Don’t be so ungrateful. This is an invaluable asset to the _ famiglia _ that I’ve been looking after for a while.” 

“Did you trick her with your baby form?” Another kick from the baby, this once he was able to counter. Reborn merely smirked, pointing to the kitchen.

“No-good Tsuna. Go greet your new secretary.” 

“Secretary? Why would I need a secretary?”

“Because you're pathetic.”

Sighing, the young man raised up, walking to the room that Reborn pointed him too. If nothing else, he was going to have to clear up some serious misunderstandings. 

Through the door, he heard his mother chatting lightly, and his face went red upon realizing she was telling embarrassing stories about him again. There was a laugh, that seemed to be another female. Curious, he slid open the door.

His mouth fell open, heat pooling in his cheeks. Prickles went down his spine.

Before him, in one of his mother's old aprons, a young woman was effortless chopping up onions and unmistakably helping cook dinner. His mom turned, greeting him. The woman turned as well, flashing a blinding smile.

Tsuna’s eyebrows raised, his breath pausing. 

She was _ beautiful_.

Her long blonde hair was swept back into a fashionable chignon at that base of her long, slim neck. A neck attached to a heart-shaped face with generous pouty lips and exquisite blue eyes. _ She looked familiar. _He knew he had seen her somewhere before, but his memory wasn’t working. Was she a model, or an actress?

Her skin was so smooth, tanner than the average girl, with European or American features. She looked above his age, infinitely more polished than any normal woman should be, and even Tsuna recognized that it took a special sort of skill to look _that good_.

And then she leveled a piercing look at him.

_ A mafia look. _ His stomach sank.

“_Vongola Decimo, _ I presume? _ ” _Her husky voice didn’t hide the slight skepticism, something he was very familiar hearing. 

Tsuna nodded, trying to move. A swift kick pushed him forward into the hardwood floor of the kitchen, and he landed face-first, baby moving to sit on his head. Mortification shot through him, and he suddenly felt like a five-year-old who had been reprimanded by his teacher.

_ What a great way to make a first impression. _

She glided towards him, setting down the knife, watching her high-heels click against the floor. Still, he felt the agitation that had become second nature when people are all too happy to stab you in the back.

Quickly he jumped up again, trying to regain composure and failing. It may have been part of the reason he let Reborn jump onto his head once again.

“Yes, this is my no-good student Tsuna, Margo-chan.” Another smack to his head. Tsuna sighed, rubbing his face.

“Very... smooth, Vongola.” She said dryly. “Are you sure this is the right one?”

He did sort of die inside at her frank assessment. 

This day had all the potential to be nice and quiet. His self-proclaimed right-hand man was busy with his college classes, Lambo was with family, Reborn was vacationing, and there was that slice of cake in the fridge he had been saving. And now, he had to deal with this He got the feeling that this was going to turn into one more round of madness.

“Don’t let his womanly figure deceive you, Margo-chan.” Reborn was now eating the cake, still on his head. “He is the Tenth.”

Later they sat on opposite sides of the kotatsu table, Margo looking thrilled at what she called ‘_ being immersed in the local culture’. _Funny, she didn’t seem like an otaku type.

She was very pretty, Tsuna finally admitted, if not with some conflict. She was pretty enough to be a model, but with her dark business pants and silk shirt, she exuded business professionals. But he was trying his darndest to figure out where he knew her from. 

_ What was Reborn playing at? _

She crossed her fingers and rested her chin on top. Reborn was sitting in a small, plush looking chair he had made appear out of thin air. Tsuna felt a large teardrop form on the back of his head, clear that this turned into an interview of sorts.

“Ah... so... you would like to be my secretary?” Eye eyes flashed open, arms crossing.

“No.” He wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. “Reborn is being stubborn.”

He sort of felt like sobbing in relief that finally, somebody felt the same way about the hitman manner as he had. Before he could sob in agreement Reborn leveled a gaze at him, one that promised terrible things if he did not stay in line. He didn’t know how a baby's eyes could be so cold, promising of torture. 

“It's Margo, right? Why don’t you tell me more about yourself.”

“For _the_ Vongola heir, you seem to be a bit clueless.” There was no winning. There was only pain in his immediate future. The agony of knowing she saw right through him.

He wouldn't be astonished if Reborn was just doing this to test him on his burgeoning prowess with the opposite gender. While still friends with Kyoko Sasagawa and Haru Miura, he tried to date outside the family, just for a respite from the craziness. He had begun to date rather voraciously within the last year, Reborns mandatory Italian lessons coming in handy. 

“I try to retain a life that is as normal as possible. I was not born into the Mafia, so I may seem unusual to many of those on the inside.” 

“I keep him on my toes.” Reborn nodded, his smirk widening. He saw Margo give the baby a small smile that looked very cool.

“I imagine.” She agreed, looking just as menacing.

“Next year, he and his guardians will be attending college in Italy, and Tsuna will begin taking larger Mafia duties.” He replied to her.

Tsuna turned to him, about to protest, but decided not to fight on that point just yet.

“Maybe.” He muttered. “Please, tell me about yourself.”

The woman was looking more and more dubious. 

“My name is Margaret Adesso. I am a former member of the American Adesso family, and studied-”

“Also known as M_an-Crusher Margo_,” Reborn added with a smirk. 

The woman’s face flickered before her the mask returned in full force. It was a choreographed stumble by Reborn she had fallen for, if just for a moment. A glimpse that under her pretty face she had something of substance_. _

Tsuna could recognize a person holding secrets. She straightened.

“I am infrequently called that... in bad taste. I’m sure _Decimo _that you are aware that some childish nicknames are hard to shake.” Tsuna realized he was nodded along with the woman before he stopped. So she had heard of No-Good Tsuna.

He was only slightly surprised when she stood, clearly done with Reborn’s game.

“As flattered as I am, I am simply not cut out for life in your _ famiglia_.” She slipped a loose hair behind her ear, and Tsuna’s instincts flared. She almost sounded disappointed to be disappointed. 

Reborn said nothing. She seemed to notice that this wasn’t his usual modus operandi, and her moments got quicker. Her dark eyes blinked as she grabbed her thick canvas bag by the door. 

It was quiet, just the click of her heels, and the front door closed. Reborn turned to him, holding his tea.

“Not good, No-good Tsuna. You botched it.” He had the nerve to chide him.

Tsuna groaned, a large teardrop forming on his head. 

“I didn’t even _ do _anything. She clearly didn’t want to be here!”

“No excuses! Can’t have a weak boss like you parading around. Go convince Margo-Chan that the Vongola will take care of her. I will _ punish _you if you don’t.” 

He quickly ran after her. 

She was halfway to the bus stop when he caught up, putting a hand on her arm. 

“Miss Margo!”

“Decimo.” Her tone was soft, but she brushed off his hand, continuing on. He kept pace with her, still in his preppy school uniform.

“Please, I’m sorry. Can we... Let’s start over!” 

She paused, looking at the young man. Despite being her same height, he seemed so small. How could Reborn even think she would risk anything for such a boss?

“I can tell that you are... a good kid. You absolutely reek of kindness and caring. But you need to understand, Decimo, if I come out and openly pledge myself to the Vongola, it will be bad for both of us. People want me dead.” She paused as if hesitating over her next words. He was surprised to see another crack in her facade. She was afraid. Someone was after her.

“I don’t... I can’t fail now.” He saw the hunted look. 

Margo thought that would be the end, and she would walk away with the mild wind blowing her hair. It was quite the moment, one that he would remember in a theatrical way. She enjoyed that aspect of the job. 

But instead of a noir farewell, arms wrapped around her.

The Vongola Boss had wrapped his arms around her. 

What the!

Her cheeks went bright red as the _ next freaking Vongola boss _grabbed her shoulders, a sharp look in his eyes. He seemed to beam with a new force.

“I promise, Margaret Adesso, that if you become a Vongola, I will protect you as if you were my blood.”

He hoped that sounded dramatic enough for a mafia offer.

She looked like was proposing, mouth parted, cheeks rosy. He knees had become unsteady, and he was holding both of them off. He was stronger than he looked. His eyes burned with fire, frighteningly sure.

“Stay, Margo.”

Her heart raced.

Suddenly the sweet teen seemed much more intimidating. Sweat pooled at her neck, and she wondered how she had missed it. 

A little way off a tall lean man sharply dressed in black blew the smoke off of his black gun. He watched the progress with a smirk, raising the gun to his sleek hat. The gun grew legs, and climbed on, slowly transforming into a chameleon.

The woman nodded her head, almost like a zombie. His smirk, a known killer of women, grew even more satisfied.

“Welcome to the Vongola,_ man-frantoio_. May your stay be long-ish.”


	4. L’Borgata

**“Agh!”**   
****

As much as she respected the gentler side of her new boss, The Decimo screamed like a ten-year-old girl. Not that it was entirely his fault, but Margo had never imagined the Vongola boss to be so casual.

_ Why did he have to remind her of her own younger brother? _

Curse that Reborn and his killer instinct. She had evaded countless Mafia Families, avoiding the police and the worst assassins... but the mere memory of her brother was enough to shackle her to the Vongola heir.

But as she and Tsuna were chased down the road in Reborn’s version of Ultimate Ninja, she confident she had made a huge mistake (in a rare moment of emotional weakness). He hadn’t even given her the courtesy of changing out of heels since it would have ruined the ‘surprise’.

And so it only suited that she would begin to regret becoming a Vongola secretary the moment she agreed.

\--X--

Halfway around the world, in the infamous but reclusive headquarters of Vongola's elite independent assassination squad, a surprising noise was heard.

Laughter.

Now, mean laughter was normal, as was rude. Laughter for victory, blood, etc was also acceptable. The laughter of the resident Mist-Flame user was not.

And currently, the green-haired teen who never smiled was_ laughing._

It was only technically considered laughter, as it more sounded like a robot imitating the real thing. His voice was flat and empty of any real trace of good humor. But it made the toughest subordinate produce a cold shiver of dread.

There was nothing good that came from that type of laughter, especially from a top officer at Varia HQ. 

The frogged headed kid being this amused meant _big_ trouble. 

“Ah... Master Fran...” A subordinate, in a risky move, entered the large computer room the boy was at. It turned out that sitting on the computer all day did have its perks.

Fran immediately stopped, a jarring shift, and turned the guard behind him. _ Why are you here? _

_ Because your laughter is causing the spiders to form lines. _

“Is everything okay?” The subordinate asked, retentivity.

The young man put a hand to his chin. 

“No, but it should be fun.” The subordinate blinked, shoulders stiffening. Fran hopped out of the seat, the large fog hat on his head shaking at the sudden movement.

“Where are you going, Master Fran?” He asked, following him. The boy, at seeing this annoying new tail, frowned.

“_ Ah _... None of your business.”

And in a moment he faded into nothing, leaving a cursing subordinate assigned to watch the youngest member of the Varia Officers.

Fran reappeared a few corridors away, some knives sticking out of his hat but still rather unperturbed. He passed by the window, barely noting the building storm clouds that would lessen the oppressive summer heat that had been building over the last few days. Normally there was more shouting, but many of the members were still on missions or were taking the regular summer sabbatical. There was yet the faint sounds of metal against metal, the occasional grunting of men practicing their killing techniques.

He was careful to tiptoe past a training room belonging to a certain obnoxious shark enthusiast who hadn’t bothered to shut the metal doors. Fran peaked it, noting the selachian ass was sitting back on one of the few cushions not utterly demolished. The silver-haired man may wake up with his bangs shorn one day, but this time Fran passed up irritating his long-haired moron of a commander for a higher calling.

He didn’t want anyone else getting credit for his find. 

In the luxurious lounge, air-conditioned and gilded with real gold, he passed the gross-beaded, nasty nose-haired molester, also known as the Lightning Guardian that_ should just die._ It only took a moment of staring for the spiky-haired, boss worshipper to turn back to the show he was watching, ignoring him. A mistake. Fran noticed he had draped his jacket over another chair, and when the man wasn’t looking he created the illusion of a giant spider to go inside the hood.

Fran then pattered on to the top offices, which were completely silent, which suited the excitement that he just wasn’t capable of showing.

At the end of the hall was a giant oak door, thick, with only the deep marks of the daily beating it usually received. From wine glasses to gunshots, that door had lived one too many stories of abuse. 

Now, Fran wasn’t a coward, but he was _intelligent enough_ to know when to retreat, and he wondered if his news would placate the boss enough that he could leave with his entire head. After all, hell had no wrath like a boss that was disturbed during his daily nap time. There was no meaner man than the man inside the room. 

Taking the risk, he knocked before opening the door. He let the mandatory wineglass hit him but took it as a good sign when nothing larger came his way.

“Oi, Bossu.”

“Scum.” Oh good, he wasn’t going to kill him today.

Fran shut the door behind himself, knowing this was as close to an invitation he was going to get. He pulled out the tablet he had _borrowed from_ the berserker known as Prince Ripper, and carefully approached the man sitting behind the desk.

“I got this from an agent in Japan.” He laid the tablet on the table, in close enough range that the man could see it, but not enough to intrude on his personal space. After he took a few cautious steps back. 

A pause.

The man’s red eyes flickered over the paused video. It showed a young woman who was mid-run, haired pulled back. She looked mildly irritated, as may be appropriate because the Hitman Reborn was behind her riding a giant motorcycle, clearly chasing her while she was wearing tall heels and a business suit. Next to her, he saw the panicked face of the brat who dared call himself the tenth boss, looking all sorts of terrifying. That brat was an indiscretion. 

But the woman...

He took a sip of the drink that matched his eyes, not even flinching at the strong alcohol hitting the back of his throat. Fran raised an eyebrow at the reaction. He pulled a knife out of his hat, giving the boss a few moments longer.

“Tell the trash we’re going to visit the brats.”

\--X--

Her sides hurt_. _

_ “ _Come on Margo-San!” The tenth boss was next to her, his words coming out like a potato against a cheese grater. “He’d get too much satisfaction out of killing us to take mercy.”

Yeah, no kidding. The man had almost run them down with a giant, colorful motorcycle with training wheels. He was clearly a sadist.

“Your tutor is a _ tyrant, _Decimo.” 

A shot was fired past her head, and she sped up.

“It’s your fault, _man-crusher,_ for getting so fat.” The baby cooed, talking through a megaphone. Did he not see how obvious he was? The machine he was riding was causing people to rush out of their homes and to call the police!

“_ Siug aan my aambeie en wag vir beter dae...” _She muttered under her breath, feeling the fat melt off her waist. Two years of eating on the go weren’t easy on any muffin top and she enjoyed her comfort foods. Another shot flew past her, and she discovered the Reborns knowledge of Afrikaans was just as sharp as hers.

“滚开, _ Reborn _!” She sharply turned, jumping over the fence, slipping away from the self-pronounced despot who had decided by himself that a secretarial position deserved a daily training regimen and health plan. She missed fries with a lethal passion.

However, she had learned much quicker than Tsuna. If she tried to even _ think _ of bending one of Reborn’s iron rules, there would be swift retribution, usually under the moniker of _ ‘tutoring’ _. The baby had a cynical sense of humor, even for a mafia man. So she had to outsmart the obvious solution. She didn’t notice the purple flames that sparked at her heels as she shifted. 

But she slipped through the hedges, climbing the house, till she could jump across the roof to a different house. Her heels were more for fashion than form, so she slid around like an amateur, but still managed to make it down the other side, at least four blocks away from ‘the great race’.

How the hell was she supposed to predict when Reborn would go berserk and show up chasing them? She wasn’t about to forgo fashion once again! Well, not unless it was an emergency.

She kicked off the heels.

From there she managed to remember enough Japanese characters to make to back to the Sawada house. The kind Nana Sawada ushered her in, letting her into the door, and she near collapsed in the before making it to the guesthouse out back the Vongola was renting for her. A guesthouse that had mysteriously popped up overnight.

“Arigatou.” She managed to mumble as the older woman gave a kind laugh, shutting the door behind her. She slid down the wall, sides hurting. One month and Reborn still have the upper hand. 

Peace. 

Like clockwork, the baby popped out of the nearby clock.

“_Ciaossu_, Margo-chan.” He was once again dressed elaborately in gear reminiscent of the grim reaper. 

“You _ are _the devil, aren’t you.”

“Yes. But I haven’t come to take your soul quite yet.”

“Just my sanity.” The baby smirked, showing off his black robes and toy scythe. 

“I have finally discovered your flame.” Margo let out a sigh. “It’s what I presumed all along.”

“If it’s that moron from Mississippi, I promise you that was more of a one-night stand sort of deal. I was just stealing electricity after I got him high, and even if he woke up naked in the middle of an elementary that’s hardly my fault. I suppose the kids saw, and that’s why there’s a warrant.” Reborn shook his head, smirking, making Margo stop.

“No, your Dying Will Flame.”

“Oh, you mean that dumb state the kid goes into when you shoot him for fun, and he rips off his clothes?”

“Precisely. He can actually use it in a more effective way, but I like to keep in on his toes.”

“Ah.”

“You remember Tsuna’s _ famiglia _.” Margo nodded, wondering if the scarring image of her first meeting with the so-called guardians would ever leave her. She prayed she would one day be able to see pineapples in a better light. She knew that some Mafia members had strange, unexplainable skills, but her confusion had reached another level being surprised in the shower.

“Of course. You introduced them as the guardians of _ weather patterns_.”

“Do you remember Hibari Kyoya?”

“The one who moonlights as a hall monitor at his old middle school? He threatened to bite the abyss out of me... Kind of kinky for a high schooler?”

Reborn didn’t bother justifying that sort of assessment and ignored it.

“You share the same power as Hibari- Cloud Flames. His are much more powerful than yours will ever be, but I suppose he’d train you if I promised him a fight.” Margo sat up, feeling rather stiff. “But he may accidentally kill you.”

“The kid hates me, only second to the silver-haired bombing brigade.”

“I wouldn't take it personally. Cloud guardians tend to be a bit obnoxious at the best of times. I mean, even _ Skull _might be better than you.” 

“Okay, _ enough _ of the petty insults.” He smirked.

“You would probably get pregnant pretty easily.” She folded her arms, rolling her eyes at the little child. “The Cloud characteristic _ is _ propagation.”

“Reborn, _ moving on. _” The baby actually laughed. “No more weird flame stuff.”

She was surprised when he complied. 

“I have a request for you tonight.” 

Margo wanted to make some sort of snide comment, but she had a strong desire for the small baby to let her sleep instead of doing another 12 km run. “I need you to take Haru and Kyoko and go bar hopping.” 

Margo gave him a skeptical look, but before she could respond, Reborn slapped down several fake ID’s on the table, along with several thousand yen. 

“No running tomorrow if you accept.” She didn’t blink, slamming her hand down on his own.

“That’s a _ deal_."

“Good luck.”

“_No takebacks satan. _”

**\--X--**

While hot springs Margo had visited before, Japanese hot springs turned out to be the first step in the Asian version of beauty preparation. Combined with a shopping trip (an expensive one, on the Vongola’s dime) to deck out her look and toiletries, she was feeling better than she had in months. After taking the most regular members of Tsuna’s group, the girls, and giving them each personal makeovers, she sat before the mirror. She even saw the effects that the exercise had on her body, being much slimmer than usual. 

They were in the guesthouse, the girls behind her trying on various outfits that she’d yay or nay in turn. She was surprised how easily the young woman trusted her, how quickly they took to her advice. Margo knew that it was the beginning of the femme fatale training they would experience, the most basic of things, but hey, she was a good teacher when it came to appearance.

While the girls looked unsure at their enhanced faces, the bust that they were letting show, she revealed in the feeling of putting on her best face. She went a little brighter on the lipstick she chose, thicker on the foundation, and worked till not one plane of her skin was imperfect. With contouring, she was a different person. 

Margo needed the escape from herself, the way she could hold people at a distance so she could work. She couldn’t be guessed at or held down when she had her face on.

She wore a less flashy ensemble than the younger woman, a dark blue dress with small sequins that flickered occasionally while accenting the length of her legs and hinting at the firmness of her concealed chest. She towered above the girls as she slipped on a pair of matching heels.

“Wow, Margo-senpai! You are so good at this!” Haru said excitedly as they exited the backyard house, leaving through the gate. Kyoko nodded, and Margo knew the girl was feeling one hundred percent more confident. Man, if they were a bit older, she’d let them get some tail; but she did consider herself the guardian of the young woman who looked like they had never even kissed a boy before. 

Baby steps.

“You both look great. I was surprised to hear you don’t get out more.”

“Well, Ryohei is pretty protective, and we’re always so busy.” Margo nodded, knowing that Reborn kept _all of_ the Vongola running to his tune.

“Well, tonight’s our night indeed.” They slipped into a taxi she waved down. She turned to the driver, a rather flamboyant looking woman in sunglasses, who seemed to immediately establish the mood. It was shortly discovered that they had actually stumbled upon a drag queen. Margo slid into the front seat, noting a dark screen separating her from the girls. A bit unusual but perhaps it was for the driver’s safety. 

“Oh, so exciting! I’m so jealous! Where are you off too?” She said in perfect Japanese, if not a bit too deep for his role. Usually the Drag Queens she knew tended to work their voices a bit higher. It intrigued her, but she couldn’t chase after questions while she was babysitting.

“The _ Asahi, _please,” Margo interjected with good humor. “You should join us if you’re free. Drinks on me.” 

“Ah, so generous and hipster! So you princesses are going to find some princes?” It didn’t take much for the girls to convince the man to join them on their wild night out.

“What’s your name!” Haru asked excitedly, not really looking at the driver. 

The drag queen smiled, and Margo felt uneasy.

“Call me... _ mama _ Luss.”


	5. 5- Chekhov’s Gun

**5- Chekhov’s Gun**

Margo was at the bar, sitting quietly. She was having more fun than she should be, watching her flock of delicate young woman transform into formidable honeypots. Her serene mask had cracked a little more, a smile playing at her red painted lips. How she loved and hated the game.

But of course, she should have figured that Reborn would see through her facade into this dark side of her. He enjoyed playing something like this, how very typical of him to find opportunities. Her sadistic side was enjoying the show oh so much.

The four of the Vongola boys were trying to be inconspicuous in the crowd, awkwardly watching the girls who were successfully garnering attention. Tsuna was bright red watching Kyoko dance, and the other boys were doing a mildly better job at guarding their chosen ‘honeypots’. 

“Margo-chan!”

She was surprised to see a purple-haired pineapple approach her, splitting the crowd and causing a _highly warranted_ shiver. It did leave when she recognized the female features of the temporary Mist Guardian.

“Chrome, how are you?” 

The lovely girl smiled, sitting next to Margo. She had a soft spot for the girl, despite not liking her... counterpart.

“I’m good, thank you. Also, thank you for inviting me to go with you earlier, but unfortunately Master Mukuro needed to borrow my body.”

“Ah yes... how kind of you to _ share _.” That must have been the correct thing to say because a high blush came on the girl’s cheeks. “I did think that he had his own body back now.”

Chrome opened up more, a big smile on her face.

“Ah, yes, but occasionally he still uses it when the situation presents itself.”

Margo responded, and was going to continue talking with the shy guardian when she got _ that _feeling. The one where your gut twists and the hair stands on the back of your neck. The one that any decent Mafioso has when they’re being watched.

She tilted her head, looking over at the dance floor where her girls were. She spotted the flamboyant friend they had picked up- Mama Luss, grinding on some poor boy who looked terrified. No one over there.

A long arm stretched around her back.

“You’re being watched.”

She bit her lip as she turned back to Chrome, knowing not to expect the agreeable girl any longer. She folded her hands on her crossed knees, demurely. 

“Mukuro,” His arm clenched around her, brushing a semi-bare shoulder with his long fingers. “I suppose I should be honored that you’ve chosen to appear when I’m actually dressed.”

“Kufufufufu.”

“Am I supposed to contribute my sudden uneasy feelings to you?” The pineapple gave a laugh leaning back against the bar.

“Not exactly. You should be nicer to me, Margo. After all, I’m your guard tonight, thanks to the little boss.”

“How gallant.” His playful smile grew wider at her tone. “I don’t need you.”

“Kufufu. Despite your mean tone, you should know _ he’s _ giving you those unpleasant stares.” Despite her polite smile, she was curious enough to gaze over the club, but no one caught her eye. Who was this _ he? _

“Hm?”

“Oh, it’s not going to be that easy. I’m not getting involved.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re a total-?” He put a finger to her lips, playing the scandalized suitor.

“I haven’t heard it from such a pretty mouth as yours.” She smacked his hands away, making him laugh harder. 

“Bring back the cute girl. She was better company.” As if he was in on a joke she wasn’t going to understand. He leveled her with a look that she shot back. 

“So I’m to be jealous of my own Chrome? Well then, _ segretario _ , _ buona fortuna _.” With another smirk, he disappeared, leaving Chrome in his place. 

“_ Mulkku _ .” Margo muttered darkly in Finnish, not wanting Chrome to have her ears burned. “ _ Perseraiskattu pirihuora _.”

“You’re really good with language, aren’t you, Senpai?” Chrome was back, thankfully. Margo gave a small shrug. 

“Makes swearing easier.”

“Ah. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“No darling, not you.”

For awhile they sat, the music pulsing wildly in the club. Margo shifted, still feeling eyes on her. Who was it? 

“Chrome. Can you sense anything strange?” The purple-haired girl looked at her, then around the room.

“Sorry, Senpai. There’s not even anyone here using their flames.” Margo nodded, watching the night play on, the club getting more packed, and the kids more tired. Man, the 18-year-old’s were lightweights.

Chrome eventually wandered away in the throbbing crowd, saying something about Mukuro needing something. She half-closed her eyes, enjoying the beat as the chaos returned like an old friend.

Behind her, she heard a glass clink down, and she turned to one of the bartenders, a blonde just in for his shift. She raised an eyebrow at the hair that covered his eyes, the little crown on his head. He looked more like a drunk frat boy then a bartender. He slid a drink to her. 

“Shishishi, for you.” She looked at the golden shot of Golden Whiskey placed before her, not a slipped drop. “It’s from an admirer.”

She looked up to the young bartender. _ She was not going to drink it so easily. _

“Who?” The blonde man shrugged, turning back to the bar. She watched as he left to the back, ignoring the other people trying to get orders from him. She thought she heard him say something along the lines of ‘Get off me, _filthy_ _peasants’ _before disappearing out back.

Japan’s club scene was a weird place. 

She turned around, trying to spot anyone who looked like they could casually spend hundreds of dollars on a single drink. Even the older patrons she saw didn’t seem the type to make that sort of gesture. Some guys looked at her, but none held her gaze or seemed like the type.

She lifted the glass to the sparkling lights, but she didn’t see any sign of a dissolving compound. Subtly she dipped her finger in, her nail polish able to test the alcohol for anything that should be there- and looked like a god-tier manicure.

Frowning she lifted it to her face, smelling the tinges of cinnamon, and a hint of burnt orange. It was expensive. What sort of man could afford a beer like this? And why would they give it to her in a club like this? Not a bad place, but it was a hangout for a younger crowd who drank as much soda as alcohol. 

She set it down, trying to decide on the best course. To not drink would be offensive to a well-intentioned man, but if there was something wrong...

Her spine chilled. 

It was such a _ Mafia _ thing to do.

_ ~Fifteen or so years ago~ _

She was a young girl, barely at the cusp of womanhood at the time. A child, yet for some reason, he couldn’t even force himself over three feet to sit by her side. He downed another bourbon but it tasted like crap candy instead of the burn he was chasing. 

But she had got it right. The whiskey flashed gold in her hand, but he saw that she had barely sipped the high-grade drink she had chosen about ten minutes ago, deep in thought. He was honest enough to admit he liked the look of her casually downing the alcohol, and he liked the fire it stoked.

She seemed mesmerized at the molten color as it sloshed in the glass. He observed that the deep gold matched her own bright hair, silky strands pulled back into a modest hairdo he didn’t know the name of. She was in a tuxedo sheath dress that highlighted the delightful color of her skin, but she had paired it with an ugly, thick shawl that she had draped across her shoulders to cover more flesh. It was a sin for someone to cover up such soft skin, he was sure. Modest pearls, real, draped around her neck and flashed with subtle diamonds. A matching paid glinted in her ears. She was all elegance and subtlety, a marked contrast to her moronic _ famiglia _. She had completed the look with that serene expression on her face that had yet to crack under the enormous amounts of embarrassment she had been through. 

This _ Americana _had a family that was the worst of the bottom dwellers of any part of the mafia. The girl would have been thought to be a good catch, her credentials ranking high on the charts, but not one person would subject themselves to being linked to her increasingly greasy family. So she sat alone despite being modelesque, and far more beautiful than any other woman in the room. So didn’t look that put out, almost glad to be alone.

Xanxus wanted her. 

She seemed the type to slip through her family’s fingers the tighter they tried to maneuver her around. He had seen her do it to the men who were willing to overlook her bad family for such a pretty woman.

The rest of the poorly mannered Adesso family had been a sheer embarrassment to the other Americans there. They had been the low point of the party, as it was clear they were after connections and money of the better-established families, and he didn’t blame the one credible member for wanting to get drunk. After all, with a rumored child rapist as a boss, who would want to get near that crapbag? 

His instincts warred. 

Could he gain one without the other? No doubt her stepfather would sell her to him for an alliance, but that wasn’t what he wanted. 

He wanted her to come to him, to want him on _ his _ terms. Was there a woman alive not terrified of him? He actively encouraged his name and fear to be in the same sentence. She had yet to break, perhaps why she was the singular woman he had been impressed by.

It was good and bad that the _ Vongola Nono _ had slipped around any sort of scheme the Americano boss had tried to implement, and every other reputable famiglia followed suit. But it stalled Xanxus to make his move. She had passed his father’s inspection.

But he knew Ninth was impressed with the slick tongue of the golden wunderkind, which is likely why Xanxus had even bothered to come to the crazy party. To get a close look at the _ man-crusher _. And the lure of good alcohol. 

She looked up, into the mirror that displayed the room behind her. They’re eyes connected, and she carefully turned down, taking another drink.

He decided to throw it to the wind and see what would happen. He stepped away from his followers, Squalo yelling at him causing half the room to glance over. Most turned back, but a few glances followed him.

She must have noticed. It was a good sign that she wasn’t too drunk to take in her surroundings, but it might have been easier to talk to her if she had. He was behind her now, testing her resolve. Would she flee like a foal?

He didn’t realize he was intently staring at her head until she turned, her black eyelashes fluttering in his direction, mask shaking. But she didn’t wince when he took another step, didn’t show any fear, at the close quarters he pressed on her. He was rarely close to people, and he had never been so close to a woman. She smelled nice, like a good brand of perfume and a touch of soap.

He stood beside her, placing his empty glass on the bar. She would notice that he was too close to be casually asking for just another drink. The bartender smoothly filled his glass with the most expensive whiskey on the menu. He nodded his head at her empty glass. The bartender paused but filled it as well. 

An invitation. 

Slowly she acknowledged him with a slight nod, not looking directly at him. She gave the glass one drink, as did he. A bare thanks. Then setting her drink down, she smoothly turned in a careful manner that somewhat impressed him with her refusal. All in all, she had done nothing offensive, but also nothing to encourage any further conversation.

Then as quietly as she had been drinking, she stepped away. The encounter was so relaxed that most of the room didn’t notice, seeing how they expected him to use loud, obvious moves most of the time. A mistake she hadn’t made.

He had to give it to her, she was an apt woman. Usually his experience with the gender left him angry or bored, but she was different. The manner in which she resolved the situation had grace and a touch of much-needed humor. She took one sip in thanks and just left. He _ did _have a sense of humor, despite how things looked.

But he knew some others had probably seen it. He heard a few scoffs, mocking him behind his back. More insults they didn’t dare say to his face.

Despite having a terrible famiglia, the girl had a good reputation from her top rankings at the Mafia High school. Being jilted by her could hurt his reputation. 

If Squalo said anything the stupid shark would find himself face first in the stone wall. 

And if he was honest, it rankled his pride to be told no, no matter how politely she had done it. His mood turned sour. People talking poorly behind his back was nothing new, though they had begun to be more discreet about the angry young Vongola, knowing that he _ would _kick their pathetic faces off if any of the Vongola caught them. He turned, leveling a glare at anyone who dared look at him, leaving the bar. He went to another corner of the room, soon surrounded by his familiar cronies. Squalo took one look at didn’t say anything for once. It was wise.

Still feeling the need for space, he kicked the balcony door open, letting it crack under his shoe. He smashed his glass, evening ruined. 

The night was much cooler and helped him to cool down. He didn’t want to make an even worse impression. He needed to plan his next step.

He was standing over the adjoining courtyard, frowning. He leaned against the night air, taking a long drag of a cigarette hidden for a moment like this. 

Stress bit at him, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

A shawl, far too feminine, fell across his shoulder. The action shocked him so much that he didn’t turn when it rested on him. He didn’t pull it off and crumple it up like it deserved, accompanied by throwing a well-earned punch at the person that _ dared_. 

It was likely because he recognized the embroidered cotton that he paused.

He turned, only catching a glimpse of the perpetrator who was already too far away to make a move. He saw the mane of shiny blonde hair, softer than felt, brushing down her shoulders as she glanced over her shoulder and gave a soft smile before entering the party, and leaving soon after. 

When he went in, he realized the extent of what she had done. The action was noticed, and her offer acted to placate the gossip as if _she _had gone after him in the first place.

_ Man Crusher Margo, _ they whispered. _ A climber just like her family? _They accused

His hands clenching and he throbbed with the need to have her. It was no longer an option at this point. Her action had sealed her fate and she didn’t even know it.

All those people accusing her... who cursed her with that nickname were _ jealous _ . And she chose to go after him. It was impossible for him to _ not _ like the woman. Which meant any man who crossed her probably ended up having some sort of a crush. He glowered as he realized what the nickname actually meant. 

Margo... Man... crusher.

Men... crushed on Margo. Men who did fall in love with her doomed to experience the sensation of knowing that she would not return those feelings, despite being a genuinely kind person. He was starting to understand the innuendo, and perhaps the crushing desire to prove it wrong.

He pulled the shawl off. Instead of throwing it into the ground, like would be expected, he bundled it up. Stuffing it into his pocket, he heard her message, despite no words being said:

_ What morons. _

That was probably the beginning of his _ mild _ infatuation with the girl known as the _ man-crusher _.

______________________

_ ~Modern Day~ _

She was looking at the glass of whiskey, the same way she had so long ago. It was clear that she didn’t trust the delivery. Leave it to moron prince called Belphegor to make a mess of something that should have been easier than picking freaking daisies.

To his surprise, she raised the glass. To no one, in particular, she bent her head. Then she downed the whiskey in one delicious gulp. _ Come get me. _

A challenge. Show yourself, she demanded. It wasn’t the time, and Xanxus cursed her way of turning events on their head.

When no one claimed their prize, she stood, narrowing her eyes. _ Don’t waste my time, _ it said, _ man up. _

Still, no one approached her.

Then she turned around, clear that she was leaving.

She was almost to the exit when he saw the man enter. He noticed her as well because her turn in trajectory was abrupt. He recognized the man whose smile was all too big for his stupid face. 

Jameson Adesso, the right-hand man of her father, and heir to the Adesso famiglia.

In other words, her _ f*cking _fiancé. 


	6. Cosa Nostra

A gun slammed into Margo’s head, causing a huge bruise where she hit the cement of the building. She twisted into the brick, dodging the second swipe, and breaking a heel doing so. The third got her.

Initially, the idea of smoothly slipping out the back door seemed solid. That was before she realized that Jameson turned out to be smarter than normal. He had actually _ learned _ and brought a back-up, unlike last time where she had left him after he tried to force her into a shotgun marriage. _ It was summer in New York, and in the end, he ended up mostly naked and tied to a telephone pole, covered in honey. Good times. _

Margo thought that her reenactment of ancient Persian culture was pretty spot on, but it turns out that not everyone appreciated torture tactics the way she did. That was the afterthought of hearing her head crack, feeling hot blood running down her face. 

She didn’t stay down for long. Though woozy, she was on her feet in seconds, giving the man a _ thank you _sucker-punch to his gut with her ruined Louboutin. Such a waste deserved fierce retaliation.

Unfortunately, another metal rod wielding, hired henchman stepped up. She realized that she was surrounded, and her lack of foresight meant that Tsuna didn’t realize she was in trouble. And Mukuro was certainly not going to step in after her jilt at the bar.

“Fine, fine, I’ll _ listen _ . Put your pimp stick away, _ Tony _.” He paused, looking back.

So she sighed, waving him down, and she put a hand to her face. Curses. There was blood in her hair, and the dress was probably unreturnable for escape cash. She knew the skin discoloring would just _ ruin _ her week. It would hurt like the dickens to wash her makeup off. Someone was going to _ pay _.

“Sluts shouldn’t try and be too clever.” He said, the boss of it all walking up behind him.

“I agree.” Her composure didn’t slip as the blue-haired scoundrel who had _ once _ called himself her fiance said. Behind her, two men approached, grabbing her arms and twisting them around her back. She gave a stifled laugh that was cut off as Tony kneed her gut.

“I’m touched you are so concerned, Jameson.” She managed to mumble before tasting blood, her lip officially split. 

“I heard about the loser in Idaho you left high and dry. Crushing as you go now?” He was not a good looking guy, way too much gel, but he did have the ability to be as intimidating as a feral raccoon. His face had the same appearance as a feral creature. 

“I think, I’d rather be Tag-Teamed by _ the Vindice _then settle for you.” That response was answered by Jameson backhanding her, leaving a cut on her chin from one of the many rings he had on his fingers. So cliche. 

“That was for New York.” 

“I did New York a favor.” 

He didn’t smack her again, instead, he focused on folding up the cuffs on his jacket.

“Thanks to your apparent new support of the Vongola, the Boss has been put under hot water again. The silver lining is that we finally found you.” 

“Oh, lucky me.”

“You’re losing your touch.”He said like he believed it. He had never met the menace known as Reborn, so he wouldn’t understand. Some things just didn’t have a good way of being explained, like toddlers who could wield guns that turned into chameleons.

Alas, _ Vongola. _

For a moment they stared at one another, her eyes never turning down. She still gazed with that same bored irritation she had always had. Never once did she lose it, in school, in the Adesso Family, or on the run. He grit his teeth and clenched his rings, the smooth gold cutting into his flesh.

“You’re dead when I take you back.”

“Hm, Jameson. If you say so.” She replied blithely. “I remember you having a childish aversion to guns.”

For a moment he didn’t even have a reply to her audacity. 

“_ You- You should be the one childishly afraid! _ Did you know that the ** _Varia_ ** has had their attention peaked because of you?” 

“I’m sure the _ Varia _ has a vested interest, seeing how they’re, you know, _ Vongola. _ **Just like me.” **

Her eyes widened as she opened her mouth, knowing that she had just declared fealty to the Vongola for the first time. Curse Reborn, if he had set this situation up just to get her to do so. But Reborn didn’t appear, and so she supposed she couldn’t continue blaming everything wrong in her life on him.

“The little Vongola crybaby that has you bend over his desk and calling you a secretary make you feel nice? What am I supposed to do with a whore wife?” Jameson had turned red at her declaration and had started rambling in anger. He needed to fix that bad habit. Jameson, of course, wasn’t an official Adesso, until he married in the family. And the only way he could become the next boss was by marrying the current bosses heir apparent daughter. Urgh, it was almost too cheesy for her to bear, even though she was confident that the moment she said _I do, _the man would get her pregnant and then kill her when convenient.

They had never really gotten along. He had sort of an inferiority complex that started their first year in Mafia school. _ He _ had been the little jerk to spread her nickname, making her somewhat infamous at school. _ That _she would never forgive him for.

“You don’t bother? Perhaps the Mafia isn’t really for you?”

“I’m going to fu-”

“Jameson. I’d choose to have rampant intercourse with each of the Varia over you. I hear that Squalo Superbi has one hundred or so conquests under his belt.” The red that had started building under Jameson’s collar grew, this thick veins bulging dangerously. He needed to lay off on the donuts.

“_ Whore. _Your top half doesn’t really matter, does it.” Jameson pulled out his pocket knife, spinning it around a bit. He stepped forward, slashing his knife down on her face, ready to rip her smirk off.

_ Margo couldn’t help think that Mukuro was doing a pretty lousy job at protecting her. _

What happened next was so fast that Margo didn’t even realize her arms were released until her knees hit the ground. Before her, she was shocked to find Jameson had been thrown to the ground by Tony, and she saw a pile of blood building underneath them. She managed to pull her head up, only to see a most perplexing series of events unfolding in front of her. Nothing she understood.

There was a thick mist and lots of clanging. 

What the? 

When did mist appear? Magic mist! The fog seemed to be shaped like a perfect box. Her usually sharp mind must have been spent because she short-circuited and was staring in a daze. Something about Vongola and box animals fluttered, but she was running on fumes.

A scream helped the air clear.

_ “VVVOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOIIII!” _

_ What in the name of the sacred mother? _

Even with a battered head, she was able to give her best, incredulous look at _ whatever _had created the deplorable sound that assaulted her earbuds. She managed to stand, a hand to the wall, noting the figure who walked out of the mist-covered fray. Her eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs as pointed a long sword at her, silver hair waving behind him. Was he supposed to make sense?

“Voi! You got a mouth!” This was a much more legible threat, though it was said in Italian, which threw her off, as she had been running on English. “You better be as good as your promises.”

The man, sneering at her, then jumped back in the fray leaving a very perturbed mafia secretary. 

“Shishishi.” Several glints flashed into the mist, and she swung her head around to see the crown-wearing bartender walking forward with about fifty knives in his hands. He flicked them into the mist. “Well, part of it at least.”

“VVOOOOOIIII you brat! Quit aiming for me, Belphegor!” The boy smiled, then noticed her open mouth.

“Shishi, the princes can aim for _ any _ peasant in his way.” He shortly jumped into the mist. A familiar voice squeaked behind her.

“Hey, you naughty boys, beginning without me!” Margo’s efforts to stand were terminated by the large man she has assumed was a drag queen was now sans his pink wig and fake boobs. She was glad to see he hadn’t forsaken his boa, as she had a soft spot for it.

“....”

“Shut up, Lussuria!” The man gave a campy laugh, but he picked her up like she weighed nothing, setting down on shoeless feet.

“Oh Squalo, you are just a big softie on the inside, aren’t you~” 

Now that it needed too, but _ that _got her attention. Squalo? Only one swordsman in the mafia had that name, and she didn’t realize that saying it would summon him. Looking up at the flamboyant man, he beamed back at her, like he hadn’t been stalking her all night. 

“Shut your trap, you fag! Be useful!”

“I admit, I didn’t think the _ Decimo _ had the Varia on speed dial.” She cut in, stopping the man holding her from commenting _ how useful _he could be. Her face was in the mask again, lips parted slightly in pain.

Lussuria raised an eyebrow, flipping some green hair out of his face.

“Oh honey, _ Sawada _ didn’t send us.”

Her face paled, and Lussuria set her down as she squirmed a bit, helping her settle on her heels. 

“Really?” 

He laughed. “Nope!”

“Why have you been following me? Who?” Lussuria grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, making her roll her eyes.

“Oh, just someone. But the way, the Man-Crusher goes administrative with tight skirts and thigh-highs? Not your usual modus operandi.”

“I was _ threatened _. Was it Reborn?”

“Oh, honey, threatening just happens. And no, it wasn’t the baby.” He shrugged. She tilted her head but was thankful that his incredibly strong arm was still holding her up. 

“So you’re not going to tell me? Too secretive?” She said dryly, taunting the man. He didn’t seem fazed.

“My my, that’s rather short-sighted on your part! Who do you think!” She shrugged. There were too many people who probably had a hit on her. Lussuria was glowing with excitement. Or maybe just glowing. For some reason, her head was feeling better, and the bleeding had stopped. “The boss has a _ crush _ on you!”

He was shocked when suddenly she was out of his arms, power walking like hell in the opposite direction, looking very determined to pretend she had never been involved in such a shameful encounter. She somehow had her heels back on, making him chuckle. 

He crossed his arms, a finger pushing his glasses up. Well, no one could say that she wasn’t intelligent.

And she looked good running in Louboutin’s.

Well, the one she still had.

\--X--

_ ~Later~ _

Her clothes were packed, just a light jacket laying out. However, she was delayed in her leaving because she doubted airport security would be so courteous as to turn a blind eye at her bruised face since it hurt to put makeup on. And the fact that her fake passport was missing_ . _Cursed little toddler.

So she was still sitting in the tub. It wasn’t big, but the water was boiling and helped washing off any sort of contact she had gained from Jameson Adesso or contact with a Varia member. They give even the most scarred mafioso the heebie-jeebies.

On cue, the lip where soap sat, flipped, opening to reveal what looked like a smaller version of the washroom, except there seemed to be actual marble. Reborn, in a matching, albeit more expensive-looking tub with a washcloth on his head. He nodded at her.

“Ciassou, Margo-chan.”

“I’m not even going to begin to say how _ irritated _ I am that you have a secret door to my bathroom.” And the fact it looked much nicer. 

“I can’t share with No-Good Tsuna. I may catch his stupidity.”

“You are one cold baby. Who hurt you?” He gave her his innocent but psycho smile and didn’t reply. They both sat there for a while, silently. Without thinking she put a hand up to her face, touching her broken lip.

“Running away isn’t going to solve your problems.” He said, sinking into his tub. Margo lowered her hand, letting the old blood distill in the murky tub water. “So I unpacked all of your things again. After all, a true Vongola would never give up so easily.”

Margo raised an eyebrow, flicking some water at the baby. He was quick, using a washcloth to snap the droplets from the air with a lazy flick.

“I would blame _ acedia _, but my body would disagree.” She muttered.

“Oh?” She could sense Reborns desire to cavil her.

“I told you at the beginning, Reborn, that this entire thing was an exercise in futility. I’m not going to sit where I will be attacked again.” She said, folding her arms, looking into the tub.

“No-good Tsuna should have been paying better attention. He will be punished for his lack of attention for all his _ famiglia _.” Reborn said, and she was surprised to hear him admitting fault, albeit in a roundabout way.

“...” 

“He, of course, will need to make it up to you when he gets back from dealing with the Varia.” Of course, he would blame Tsuna. She smirked flicking him with water again. 

“I’m sure he will.” She glanced out the window, to the sky. 

More silence.

“Tell me, _ Reborn _, why would I attract the attention of the number one assassination squad in the world? It this hazing?” His face didn’t reveal anything.

“They like to make the main family nervous. Tsuna knows if he ever lets the Vongola down he will have the Varia to answer to. They’ll be interested in his first secretary. You have more power then you think.” 

He wanted her to ask about what ‘power’ she had. But she wasn’t going to give in that quickly.

“Normally I would let your lie go, but I do get concerned when a member of the said squad says his boss has been looking for me.”

Reborn smiled. 

“I’m sure even the Vaira would be interested in the Vongola’s new secretary. You are a liaison for them.” Oh crap. That made a lot of sense, but would she need to deal with them again? Knowing that Reborn wasn’t going to directly answer her question, and she settled into the tub, letting the water cover her nose. Small air bubbles popped up. 

“What’s more important, is your situation with the Adesso famiglia. Your relatives seem to be the type to take a bite at much stronger families.” He said.

“Yes. This is the sort of incident that would incite them.” She agreed, raising a hand to grab the soap of the porcelain sill. “Are they...”

“The Varia didn’t go there to kill the Adesso,” Reborn said. Margo did hold a sort of bond with some of the men. Not enough to call it loyalty, but many had families. They weren’t all bad.

“Is he dead?” Reborn would hear the mix of hope and weary longing in her voice.

“No.” She grunted. “He escaped like the coward he is, but he’ll use this to encourage your step-father to fetch you himself.”

“This situation is unworkable. I’ve declared loyalty... but to be honest, I still don’t feel this is where I can settle and be safe. Decimo is young, and the rest of the kids don’t need any more of a target on their backs.”

“Don’t underestimate the Tenth Generation.”

“I’m not. But eventually, I need to consider the fact that there are people in places that need me.”

“As long as the Adesso famiglia thinks that you’re useful to them, have any sort of attachment, it will be a hassle to get your brother,” Reborn said. Margo felt the victory at him finally admitting that she had been correct but surprised that he saw through her so clearly. “Don’t be hasty.”

“My brother is with a _ pedophile. _ How can I not be hasty?” She said the words bitter in her mouth. “Who knows what has happened when I was... unable to help?”

“The Vongola has resources. Consider this- If you were to mar-”

She didn’t like his tone, and raised herself out of the tub to leave, wrapping a towel around herself.

“No, Reborn.” He continued like he normally did.

“If you married a strong member of the Vongola, mafia law would dictate that the Adesso would have no claim on you. The Vindice would get involved.” He said over the blowdryer she turned on. She paused drying her hair.

Then her head fell back, and she began laughing. Reborn, following suit, jumped out of the tub, and was somehow dressed into a traditional kimono, fanning himself.

“Oi, Margo-chan.”

“The ‘Tenth Generation’ is a little sparse on eligible men.” She chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in years.”

“As I said, don’t be hasty.” He said, a bit annoyed.

“Oh? I don’t think I like your tone, Reborn.” He walked near her, swatting her leg as he left the bathroom.

“ Once you’re done getting your face on, I’ll meet you upstairs in Tsuna’s room.” She went white. “I’ve assembled pictures of eligible Vongola men, as well as some of our close allies for review.

“Reborn, _ no _ .” His face said Reborn _ yes. _

“Oh, and if you try deviating from the set path, I’ve planted explosions around the entire area.” He said, back on top.

As he finished, she heard the yells of No-Good Tsuna, officially kicking off Reborn’s next debacle.

“_ Mur hudu f'sormok-” _She muttered, at the sound of the lightning guardian cursing, and the rain kid laughing. 

“Maltese!” Reborn stated before her bathtub soap lip reappeared. 

“How does he-” Another explosion caused her little bathroom to shake. 


	7. Goomah

Thick manila folders, each paired a glossy photo paper clipped on top, were laid out before Margo. She sat grumpily at Tsuna’s small wooden desk, arms folded, brows narrowed angrily. Across her side, looking all sorts of embarrassing, Tsuna sat. _ Coward_, Margo’s eyes accused as she looked at the young Mafia Don. His eyes were wide, but he didn’t make a sound as Reborn sat on his shoulder, playing with his chameleon (that had a nasty side-effect of turning into a gun).

She knew it was more or less impossible to outwit or reason with the baby hitman, but this was absurd. Reborn had _destroyed _her plans, filched her passport, and now thought he was going to strong-arm her into a very serious commitment. She was more loyal to Tsuna than she was willing to admit, but _marriage _was going too far.

“Reborn, _ Alu e oso i luga o se tofifa.” _

“_Samoan_. Man-Crusher, I’m not giving you a choice. When you joined the Vongola and signed your contract, and in it, you agreed to give your boss the ability to choose a husband for you.”

She crossed her arms harder, if possible, and sneered.

“_You _ made me sign the paperwork _ after you slipped drugs into my drink _ and so any reasonable person would see that as a forgery.” She glared accusingly. “Now just give me a merciful death and we’ll call it even.”

Reborn seemed like he was considered it, but shook his head.

Tsuna raised his hands. “Reborn, we can’t force Margo to marry.” Behind him sat the man Margo had learned was his shadow, Gokudera Hayato. Tsuna turned, trying to get him to agree, but despite Gokudera’s extremely loyal position on most things, he merely shrugged. He wasn’t all that invested in the conversation, besides ensuring Margo showed Tsuna proper respect. He felt that she was too familiar. 

“If she signed the papers, then she promised.” He said, agreeing with Reborn.

“Gokudera!”

“Sorry tenth. Mafia contracts ignore things like being drugged unless you can prove it.” She grumbled, knowing he was right, but feeling irritated regardless. She _knew _she shouldn’t have excepted that stupid water bottle, but she had been so tired after running marathons to escape Reborns regular death trap’s. 

“Tsuna didn’t defend you properly, and this is his punishment,” Reborn said with some finality like Tsuna was the one being punished. “Besides, I expect better excuses than mere complaints, Margo-chan. Frankly, I’m shocked you didn’t consider this method.” 

“Marriage isn’t a joke. And this is a punishment, not an escape_. _ What could I possibly gain now? I’m already a Vongola. I haven’t done anything to spark your ire. I even finalized those dastardly Giglio Famiglia accounts that were in tatters. That took me a _ week _to organize those files.”

“You avoided finishing your training the other day,” Reborn replied. Talk about the punishment outweighing the crime! Margo spun on Tsuna.

“Decimo, please. This is a total abuse of power and a highly unjust punishment.” Technically, Tsuna was the Tenth Head of the family, and so Reborn did have to get her permission. Not a hard thing for him to do, but Margo was banking on Tsuna’s merciful side.

Tsuna sighed, rubbing his brow. Reborn hit him straight up the head. 

“Don’t try and escape your destiny.”

“_Tsuna_.”

“I am still No-Good Tsuna’s tutor, so he doesn’t get a say. I’m being merciful, letting you pick someone. So hurry, or I will assign you, someone.”

Margo looked up, giving him her best, _ screw you _look, accompanied by a very rude hand gesture, which conveniently moved to the nearest folder when Reborn brought his gun out.

“_I’ll look _.” 

No promises. But she opened the folder, letting her eyes gaze upon the first unlucky SOB who Reborn had set out.

Her heart started to beat, eyes widening.

_ Angelo, _ not a name, but a description of the man before her. He was an _angel. _Drool threatened to escape her open mouth.

Gentle golden curls framed the confident, strong face of what must have been a prince charming incarnate, handsome and dashing. He was wearing a thick green jacket with a fur hood over a suit and looked familiar, but she couldn’t put a name to the face. But his deep chocolate eyes gleamed with warmth and care. He just _ looked _kind. But he also was carrying a whip of some kind, which meant he had to be some form of deviant, especially with that provocatively demure smile. She glanced at the file underneath, forcing her eyes away.

_ Dino Cavallone_, the 10th reigning Boss of the Third most influential famiglia _in _the Mafia, the Chiavarone. Aka, better known as the Bucking Horse Dino.

Well, she wouldn’t mind him _bucking _her around.

He was acceptable. Handsome, well-respected, and a strong Vongola ally.

She was actually considering it, she realized.

She was until a shot _blew _through the photo she was holding up. She looked up in shock, the picture of her future husband decimated.

“Reborn! What the!”

“Dino is just about as useless as Tsuna. Choose another one.”

“He was in the pile!” She whined, upset. 

“Not anymore.”

She said some choice words under her breath but moved onto the next person. Her face went pale, frown turned into a thin line. She held up the picture of Takashi.

“_He’s a high schooler. _ I’m not a pedophile, Reborn! _ ” _

Reborn shrugged. “He’s a natural-born Hitman Husband. Give it a few years.”

“You are just playing favorites at this point!” She hissed, and he didn’t deny it. Tsuna sighed in relief, rubbing his head, while Gokudera looked put out. “He thinks the mafia thing is mostly a joke!”

“Hey, Reborn, am I in there?” Gokudera asked. Reborn shook his head.

“No, you are too young, of course.” Gokudera nearly suffocated at the slight.

“Baseball freak is only five months older than I am!” 

Reborn tilted his hat.

“Are you volunteering to marry Margo-chan?” He glanced at her, and she glared down at him, pulling a finger over her throat.

This time he hit the floor and quietly lay there. 

After another ten minutes of going through various men, she hit Tsuna’s picture, which once again was destroyed in a hailstorm of fury.

“I think you’re enjoying your game a little too much.” She muttered. Reborn smirked but said nothing. She was half-convinced Reborn had just set this up to irritate her, and would soon tell her that it was all just a training exercise. The thought kept her going.

After about an hour she had two piles: No, and _ hecc no_. Tsuna reached for the last file on the table, one that had been half-concealed under other papers. She saw Tsuna visibly go three degrees paler, and give a little squeak of terror. 

“Reborn! Why is that one even here?” He reached out and grabbed it, but out of curiosity, Margo snatched it up. Gokudera scoffed. She rolled her eyes, opening it. Reborn sat, quietly watching on.

It wasn’t a happy face, that was for sure. He was the epitome of what she thought of when it came to the ideal Italian mafia man. Sharp looking reddish-brown eyes hooded by generous, full eyebrows in a stern, _ I don’t give the slightest care if you get trampled, you better start running _look. His inky black hair was wild, and thankfully, not concealed by the thick gel that was in vogue. The hair was long enough for a few colorful feathers twined into some strands at the back. His skin was darker than average, an effortless tan that supermodels would envy. But it was also scarred as if he had been badly burnt by a rouge curling iron at some point. The blemish was mostly on one cheek, spreading from under his fringe. He was wearing a dark suit and tie. The photo was decent, but it wasn’t that clear, and so she couldn’t surmise much more from it besides that dark look and appearance. He wasn’t ugly but... he sort of _felt _scary.

“He looks like a boho hipster mixed with a raccoon.” She said, quirking a brow. Once glace to Reborn and she was left a bit puzzled as he made no motion to threaten her. He just seemed a bit amused.

Gokudera started choking. “Stupid woman! Do you _ want _ to die?” She shrugged, putting it to the side. “Do you know who that is?”

“The Man looks like divorce papers and a restraining order with a bottle of Pinot Noir.” Reborn smiled. “You’re just trying to irritate me, aren’t you? I will _not _be getting married. Especially to this one!” She poked the photo, unafraid.

“You’re surprisingly unperceptive today, _ man-crusher.” _She threw a pencil at Reborn, which he hit into the ceiling, a large piece falling onto Tsuna, knocking his head into the desk. She and Reborn remained unphased as Gokuder jumped up, frantic at his bosses' state of health. Margo reached for a water bottle next to the table, hoping this one wasn’t drugged.

“Listen, the only good one was Cavallone, but he was already nixed.” Reborn nodded, putting a finger to his chin as she went to take a sip. 

“Dino’s _boring. _You’d get bored of someone too nice. You’re not as nice as he is.” He said.

“That’s… not entirely true.” Reborn smirked at her half-hearted denial.

“_I__n the case that you don’t choose one yourself_, interested parties can still inquire about you. So actually, you’ve already accepted a marriage proposal.”

She shot up, choking on the water.

“_What.” _

“The work contract you signed also was a marriage contract. You’ve been married for around a month if the other party signed it when was sent.”

“_Reborn _ you better be _ lying _ you piece of-.”

“Reborn!” Tsuna had turned in dismay, giving a frustrated look at the baby. “You can’t go around marrying people!”

“I’m an ordained minister for the Mafia in fifty-six countries, so yes, I can.” Reborn smacked him, but Margo appreciated he seemed to understand the absurdness of the situation.

“Margo was supposed to just work as my secretary! WE HAVE FILES LEFT!” She felt a bit more jilted knowing that Tsuna may have been using her for her amazing ability to digitally locate and sort things. 

“It was also in the contract that she would switch to serving as the Vongola advisor to the Varia, as soon as she got married,” Reborn said as if the issue was done and he was bored of talking about it.

“Varia! You worm! You planned this from the beginning!” She slammed her hands down, papers flying off the table. “Is that’s why those morons showed up?!”

The situation was careening from bad to worse, very quickly. 

“Yes.” Reborn picked up a small espresso that had magically appeared next to him.

“Don’t say it so lightly! Who am I _married to_ that would require a post in the _top_ _assassination squad in the Mafia._” She was fuming.

Reborn picked up one of the pictures that had been flung over. Tsuna gasped, Gokudera began stuttering, and Margo’s knees collapsed.

“Xanxus Vongola, of course.”

Margo _felt _the impending doom shake through her. She swiftly pulled the gun she had been hiding under her jacket, pointing it at him. 

_ “Margo-Senpai! Murder is not an option!” _

Outside of the room, Nana Sawada gave a small chuckle at the ruckus coming from the other side of the house. Tsu-kun had _such _energetic friends.

_ “Don’t senpai me!” _


	8. Marito

_ This couldn’t be happening to her. _

“_ VOOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII _! Woman, open up!” 

_ It was happening. It was actually happening. _She had worked too hard, for too long, to be derailed by something like this. One moment of drunken contract signing and now, she was in even worse straights then just running from a trigger-happy Mafia Famiglia. No, Reborn had to bring the Varia into it.

_ Curse that Reborn! _

When she saw his stupid babyface again she would kick it. Hard.

A brief battle that had included black lace tights, a shape-shifting chameleon, a pair of superpowered mittens, and four sticks of dynamite had seemed to settle the matter for Reborn. But not for her.

_ Sugar we’re going down swinging. _

Earlier, After she had been tied up firmly, more bruises lining her body, Tsuna had been kind enough to fill her in about _his _feelings concerning the Varia. Where Reborn seemed to view the Mafia world as his playtoy and the people as his play dolls, Tsuna had a much more professional view, aided by the knowledgeable Gokudera. The silver-haired bomber wasn’t a huge fan of her (or anyone besides his boss), but he seemed like he knew the Mafia World as well as she used too.

Reborn was sleeping in Tsuna’s bed, surrounded by grenades while it all went down.

“So wait, you’re telling me that you beat the crap out of _ the _ Varia when you were pre-teens?” Gokudera smirked, giving a look as if it was nothing. 

“You should’ve been there.”

“Well, Belphegor did win the storm ring, didn’t he-” Tsuna said, Gokudera’s face falling dramatically “- but in the end, it didn’t matter, because Xanxus wasn’t actually the Ninth’s son, and it was more like a tantrum.” Margo’s mouth fell open. It clicked.

“Not even the ninths son? He sounds _terrifying_.” Gokudera gave her a condescending look.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You went to Mafia School and were involved in the Mafia World for _years_. How could you not even recognize his picture? Every competent Mafioso would recognize the guy who was supposed to be the tenth boss!” Tsuna’s fell into a depression, making Gokudera backtrack and apologize. She may have muttered something about a bad trip, but quickly shook her head.

“I only attended the last year of Mafia school in Italy. The Adesso family is based in America, and have their own resources, and only sent me to form Italian contacts. I didn’t stay long in Europe and ended up leaving my own family when I was being pressured into a bad marriage for worse reasons. Not to mention a...” She trailed off.

Tsuna crossed his legs, his huge head of hair singed from the earlier battle. “You may have met him, and not even known it. But Margo-senpai, I'd be surprised if this is real. Reborn sometimes pulls things like these.” Margo shook her head. 

“Please, Decimo, just in case. What is the man... like?”

“Well...he is older than you, but was... uh... _ frozen _for eight or so years, I’m not surprised if you missed him in Italy. He really doesn’t strike me as the type to marry.” Margo nodded, thankful with the assessment. So it turned out No-Good Tsuna was quite smart. But she didn’t understand the last part. Was frozen a Japanese mafia term for prison?

“Frozen?”

Gokudera sighed in irritation as if she was absolutely out of her mind stupid. “I assume he was... sent away? Most of the Mafia would assume that.” She said, flushing as she shifted to brush drywall of her skirt.

They both turned, and hearing Reborn’s steady snoring, nodded at one another.

“He tried to take over the position of the Tenth by force, but the Ninth used his flames to encase him in ice. It’s called the Zero Point Breakthrough.” Tsuna said, moved to untie her. Margo relaxed, breathing in relief.

“Ah, more mysterious flame stuff.” 

Gokudera visibly rolled his eyes this time.

“You’re going to need to learn about it. I don’t know whether or not Reborn is serious about your marriage to Xanxus, but the Varia deals in some pretty dark stuff.” Gokudera said, putting his head in his hand. Apparently, he thought that by explaining it out, he was doing his boss proud, but it merely prompted her to put her head down in grim resignation.

“I was relieved when they practically started ignoring the main family, but this recent sudden appearance doesn’t bode well. There’s clearly something going on.” Tsuna frowned empathetically. “It would be dangerous just to let them take you and run away.” 

Margo’s heart warmed. Ah, so her boss did have a spine. Relief filled her. So Tsuna wasn’t going to let Reborn walk all over her. Tsuna started looked very worried at the thought of his secretary disappearing. Reborn had been so focused on going after Margo he had a nice little break.

“The Varia is used to doing whatever they please, so don’t be surprised if they try and pull a fast one, despite the fact I told them to stay away.” He said, and she slumped down a bit.

“They seem like a strange group,” Margo muttered.

Gokudera barked a laugh.

“Sh, ya think? The mist guy is about as expressive as a piece of toast, and he apprenticed under Mukuro, who is always bad news. I’m sure you know _ that guy’s _not a joke when it comes to pulling crap off.” 

She found herself agreeing. It didn’t make her feel better. He continued.

“The lighting perv loves Xanxus, but is a total gullible moron, the sun dude is a perv. The freak prince is a serial killer on his good days, and Squalo is a loudmouthed asshole with a pride issue. Xanxus though? They are all easy compared to him.”

She clenched her fists, raising her hands to check the marks on them.

“What do you mean?” 

“Anger issues.”

Well, that confirmed it. She did not _want _to be involved with a bunch of animals with superiority complexes, much less stuck in matrimony with one. She glanced at the image of Xanxus laying menacing on the floor next to her. Picking it up, she felt a strong desire to groan.

“Just looking at the photo makes me want to drink.” She muttered. Both Tsuna and Gokudera nodded, cementing some sort of friend bond between them. A stupid friendship over flames and assassins. The worst type of friendship.

So commenced the next part of her life. 

Thankfully, Sawada _had _given her a phone, but it seemed a little useless as _he was not answering the stupid thing. _ She understood he had to go to school ( _ public education, ugh _), but she was going to kill him.

That morning her instincts kicked into high gear with a bad feeling that the Varia’s second job of moonlighting her whereabouts was about it up to its ante. Plan B was to infiltrate Namimori High, and unfortunately, it was not perfect.

Dressed in a uniform she had filched from Kyoko (the only one in the group approaching her height and size) she may have looked like a high schooler. A very mature high schooler who starred in poorly made naughty films.

F-it, she was doomed.

She at least hoped that Hibari would be mildly sympathetic to her ruse. While not as cruel to those who entered his former middle school without permission, he didn’t lose one hint of his sadistic, brutal can of Namimori pride whoopings to those who broke his rules. 

So here she was, her instincts proving themselves right time after time.

Prying the ancient window of the bathroom open, it was clear she had decided _not _to open the front door to the silver-haired menace who tracked her down. Margo wasn’t surprised that the Varia deduced where she was staying, but that didn’t mean she was going to make this easy. 

She jumped from the ledge as the door broke, rolling to the ground silently, and sneaking under the thick hedge until she got to a hole she had cut in the fence, in case something like this happened. The difference between a successful mafia man and an amateur was preparation. 

But even preparation against the Varia was probably not going to be enough since she excelled in the digital world, not close combat. Fighting ruined her nails, and that wasn’t acceptable. 

But today, even her beloved appearance was going to take a backseat to self-preservation. 

And if she was going to _look _like something a cat vomited, she may as well act like a mean ally cat. She was not be going to accompany the loudmouthed Varia member to his boss, no matter how loudly he screamed. 

_ Oh great sky deity, if you actually exist, that joke concerning Squalo Superbi hadn’t been a request. _

No one expects Superbi to show up and save the day like some crossdressing supervillainess with a leather fetish.

Having to resort to the disguise of what consisted of a teenage boy’s wet dream was fairly demeaning. The skirt was _way _too short, and the top was only marginally better. Oh god, at least she had sneakers this time around.

“VVOOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! WHERE DID BOSSU’S WOMAN GO?”

She was three blocks away and she _still _heard him. 

_ Nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope _

Despite the fact that saying _you can’t make me if you can’t catch me, _made her sound like an upset three-year-old, she would take what she could. So she was celebrating her victory for about three more seconds when a green-haired kid appeared in from of her.

Like, out of thin air.

So she screamed in panic, randomly punching at him.

And like a true, Japanese ninja, she hit him straight in his face, putting the unfortunate Mist illusionist out of business. His head hit the sidewalk, and she paused for a minute, eyes wide at the murder she may have just committed. 

She took a deep breath, after a minute, tiptoeing carefully around the poor guy she had just nailed. Then she saw his jacket and once again began booking it out of this anime fan-fiction dramatization.

Later, Belphegor would find the froggy still passed out on the pavement. 

“Shishishishishi, the Bossu’s woman has an adequate punch.”

\--X--

_ ~A Very Posh Hotel, Downtown Namimori~ _

  
  


_ “Boss!” _Polished black shoes clicked on the marble floor as they carefully approached the tall, black lacquer chair where the man seated there like a king took a long sip of gold whiskey. Levi, a possible contender for the Varia’s most obnoxious captain, paused before the chair, arm out in a salute.

Seeing the slight nod received, he continued.

“She ducked Commander Squalo at the initial meeting we had planned, and somehow managed to take down Captain Fran in her subsequent escape. I’ve got Belphoghar on standby, following at a distance.” 

Xanxus took an angry sip of wine. Not a good sign.

“The tracker Lussuria placed on her shoes is showing that she had a rendezvous point at Namimori High School, likely with the brats. We’ve taken down the Vongola communication towers, so she can’t have made contact with the Ten-”

Xanxus, in natural form, proceeded to raise his gun.

“Wait! Boss...we can, uh, we are still on track to prevent her from reaching the school. Belphegor is shadowing her from a distance, and Squalo is on a path to intercept.”

Xanxus scowled knowing full well his subordinates were less than capable on a good day, and huge morons at the best of times. He rose from his seat, causing many underlings to scurry and have panic attacks.

“Scumbags. I have to do everything myself. Just like that spider incident.”

Levi flushed bright red. “Sorry, sir. Any backup?” The chair hit him square in his face, knocking Levi to the floor. Several subordinates, prepared for something like this rushed in. They drug the unconscious lighting guardian from the room in record time, even cleaning up the floor while doing so.

Xanxus stood, alone in the room. 

He walked to the window, flinging it open, taking the moment to loosen his tie and bring out a phone from his pocket. Opening it, a picture of Margo Adesso flashed on the screen, a rare candid moment where she had flashed a small smile that made her face light up. He only paused for a moment, before he opened the tracking app, watching the dots appear, and gazing at the path she had made behind her.

Now, if there had been anyone else in the room, they would have been struck dumb at the huge psychotic smile the Varia boss developed.

“Heh. Trash.” 

She didn’t seem like the type to throw punches when it was clearly pointless, but he then again, would he be interested in a woman more predictable? 

Her knocking his Mist guardian on his face had been a personal challenge to him, one that he wasn’t going to let another Varia member take from him. No one took _anything _from him without consequences. 

\--X--

_ ~Namimori High~ _

Once again her instincts were screaming that she was being followed. 

For once, she thanked Reborn and his psycho training, as she had nearly run the five freaking miles to regroup with Tsuna. After this, she’d potentially apply to be a fellow student and to never let her boss leave her sight again. She’d be the best personal secretary the Vongola head _ever _had. Especially if what Tsuna had said was true; that he, the skinny beanpole, had beaten the Varia boss. That the Varia begrudging respected his wishes (with lots of swearing and complaining).

But she had to make it there before she could breathe easy. 

She saw the school, smirked as she rushed to the gates. Pavement pounded beneath her feet, a determination in her eyes. She wasn’t strong, no, but she could _outsmart _them if she played her cards right. 

Then she stopped cold at the figure leaning against the metal gateway. Too tall to be Hibrari posing menacingly. Tall, dark, and handsome _were not the first words _that crossed her mind.

Oh no.

She was fuc-

Red eyes that had been watching her became even sharper as she stopped, daring her to run. So he _did _exude an angry sort of charisma.

“Woman. Don’t make me come over there.”

She wondered if the first time she ever _really _met her new husband could have been timed worse. Instead of sipping wine with a handsome golden-haired god, she was in a super embarrassing high school uniform that was way too small, with a face battered like an umpire's glove. Oh, and sweating like a caveman.

“...” She took a step back.

“I promise, trash, that I’m much faster than you.” Crap, he could read her every move.

“...”

“If you stop this chase now and _ I may be lenient._”

Well, as if that was going to swing her decision in his favor. She, like a moron, turned and began booking it to the back of the school, screaming.

“HIBARI KYOYA! THERE ARE HERBIVORES THAT NEED YOUR ATTENTION!”

Squalo, sitting across the road in the car he had brought the boss in rolled his eyes. He had never seen anything so stupid. He could _feel _his boss’s irritation rising.

And why was she dressed like a provocative highschooler?


	9. Messaggero

The stupid cloud carnivore didn’t show up.

Rude. 

And neither did any of the other brats that the Sawada brat had promised would fly to her defense. So much for sentimental clout. 

Margo was unceremoniously dropped onto the cushy floor of the hotel less than five minutes later by a very giggly Lussuria, sporting his pink boa. It had been a pretty crappy day all around, and it had only gotten worse. 

She was a little awestruck as she pulled herself off the carpet as men channeled past her, most averted their eyes. After all, the school uniform was in tatters thanks to Belphegor’s sadistic game of chicken (which she had almost won until a huge boot kicked her, sending her face-first in the pavement). It had been sort of a daze after that.

She glared at the said owner of said boots as they passed. Margo was surprised at the jacket he threw at her. It was sort of kind. 

....

“Trashy woman, don’t walk around like a whore.”

_ Nevermind. _

She pulled the jacket up and put her arms through each sleeve before somewhat petulantly sitting back against a chair leg, zipping it up. It went nearly to her knees, making it obvious how much bigger the owner was than her own trim frame. 

The said man sat down across from her, his chair creaking ominously as he flung one leg over the other.

People started leaving the room, as he settled, the man not even needing a wave of his hand to do so. She quirked an eyebrow at the servile, nervous manner of his underlings who raced to get out but slowed down enough to not seem disrespectful. It was what one would typically expect from a swanky hotel room, but she noticed the slight lines of concealed compartments, the gleam of bulletproof glass, the materials that only very wealthy clients were afforded. Her eyes trailed from their fleeing forms back to the table in front of the man, and a tall glass of warm liquid. 

_ Golden Whiskey. _

She hated being right.

Before she had the chance to examine the man further, the large wooden door opened and a familiar figure walked in, brushing her presence off entirely. 

“Boss, the brat is calling,” Squalo demanded, turning to the dark-haired man with a sneer. He was ignored, taking a long drawl of the glimmering alcohol. _ “VOIIIIIIIIII _ YOU STUPID BOSS! DON’T IGNORE ME!”

Her mouth opened as the fine crystal tumbler smacked Squalo in his face. He commenced swearing very loudly, trying to wipe glass and whiskey from his long hair. In the midst of this, he seemed to notice her staring at the bruises on his face because he turned to her with a sneer. 

“Voi. What you looking at woman?!?!” She turned her eyes down, deciding the best course of action was to patiently wait for this apparent firestorm to pass. He snorted at her demure behavior, turning to the door. Not getting the reaction he wanted, he turned to leave.

“Just call the brat back.” He growled, slamming the door behind him and rattling the room. “It’ll take ‘em off our scent till we get back.” Did this mean the Tenth knew the Varia had gotten her? She hoped so. But by the sound of things, the Varia was moving out soon if she had her guess.

Well, that wasn’t good.

Not good at all. 

She looked to the door that Squalo had left through. What would be the odds? Probably less than a five percent chance of success. Her leg twitched regardless, betraying her intentions. Darn.

She looked to the big bad boss, Xanxus. Her _ supposed _husband/fiancee assured kidnapper. Had he seen? Surprise filled her as she did.

He was turned away, legs resting on the table in front of him, large arms encased in flawless white cotton crossed, casually. His eyes were closed, and it was clear he thought she wasn’t any threat to him as he lay quietly, half asleep. And next to him...

A gun.

This was even worse than expected. She had been anticipating screaming, bargaining, or punishment; _ not _the silent treatment and a trap. She forced herself not to reach for the gun, an obvious trap to anyone with half a brain. Despite its position, he would easily reach it before her. It spoke of his confidence. Not that the leader of the Varia needed to play power games like this.

She sat down again, biding her time. She was a light sleeper and would escape when they tried to move her again. She just needed one semi-sharp surface.

Getting more and more tired she leaned back more, narrowing her own eyes, waiting for this strange man to make his first move. This Xanxus guy seemed perfectly content to leave her to panic, or stress out or say something first. It was like he was testing her.

She wasn’t going to play to him.

Tomorrow, she promised, she’d find a way to escape these psycho assassins and get a manicure. After, she’d probably need to hideaway for a couple of years until things cooled down, then get a lawyer to annul the whole thing. There was that convent in Finland and she had a yearning to perfect her Finnish, enjoy some cooler weather, and learn to knit while thinking of the best way to enact revenge on her family. 

She could skip the catechisms. 

______________________

_ ~Later~ _

When she woke up, she was in a small bed.

She blinked, the transition from lush hotel room to the bare bones small container jarring even her stunning intellect. There was a slight shaking around her and she felt even woozier. As she moved she found that her ankle was tied up to something, but it was had to tell what, because the room had almost no light.

_ His _jacket was gone.

_ How _ had they moved her sleeping? She had been utterly asleep the entire time, not fluttering an eyelash. A glance down at her arm, a large bandage on her shoulder, was the answer.

_ They had drugged her. Sons of b- _

She focused, looking around. It was no good to panic. She wrapped a blanket around her, feeling, and was surprised to find a light switch. When she flipped it on, she saw that her ankle was chained to an opening in the bedpost with a metal handcuff. 

She furrowed her brows at the room, only the thin lines of a door visible. She was still in the stupid outfit but noticed that on an adjacent protruding metal lip there were a few things. The table was completely fused to the wall, with no spare pieces for her to work out a weapon or escape (which was flattering they thought her capable), with a set of clothes. There also seemed to be a typical packaged meal and a water bottle, as well as a package of typical hygiene things. She sardonically wondered where her shot of whiskey was.

It wasn’t much.

She wasn’t going to change in here- there were cameras watching her. But she wished for a shower, or change of underwear, but felt like it was better not to get the attention of her volatile captors yet. She was still tired and laid back against the stiff mattress, back aching. Her body, while bruised, didn’t seem too beat up, and she supposed she should thank Reborn next time she saw him, before killing him. 

She pulled the blanket to her chin.

She didn’t know how long she was in there, but later the door entered, and she sat up and the drag queen she now knew as Lussuria walked in. She raised an eyebrow at how casual he looked, just a tank top and some light leather jeans showing off a figure a bodybuilder would envy. The dorky smile on his face, and the multicolored hair sort of ruined any sort of threatening presence.

“Hi~a.” He gave a wave that may have been cute had a preschooler done it. “How _ are _ you feeling honey?” 

“Are you joking? You just _ kidnapped _ me!”

He shrugged. “It’s not perfect, but it’s the gang! And can I say, every single member is so excited to have you in the family!” She blinked. Change of subject, ASAP.

“... Is this a plane?”

“Oh, Reborn said you’d be perceptive! You’re a detective right?”

“Private Digital Consultant.”

“Ah! Just like Sherlock Holmes!” Someone watched the BBC.

“....Something like that.” She muttered.

“Ah! No wonder boss likes you! Smart and beautiful!! Well, you are even with those nasty bruises.”

“....”

“No worries! I was in charge of gathering your things, so I have your makeup because I know how important it is for us girls.” She saw the large bag behind him, near the door. Pulling it in, the door clicked shut. He went forward, pulled out a key and undid her ankle.

“That was rather thoughtful.” She said sardonically. 

“Yes, I’m here to escort you to the bathroom for a shower, and for you to get ready. Boss wants to talk to you! So cute!”

“.....”

“Oh honey, that’s a good sign.”

“How diplomatic.” She couldn’t help reply dryly. 

“It’s a shockingly gracious act on his part, I admit. But normally he is pretty macho so don’t worry if it seems a little too soft! He’s just trying to flirt!” There was an obvious disconnect to how she saw their boss, and how his members did. “He really is as tough as his reputation! Which is good because your famiglia is pretty obnoxious!”

She tilted her head as he grabbed her shoulders, helping her off the bed. She was surprised when the door opened as they approached, showing an empty hall.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, of course, you don’t know. My bad. Your _ famiglia _ has contacted the Ninth!” She swore, jumping up. “Your old boss was pretty upset that they didn’t bring you home, and that we beat the handsome out of the ugly.” 

“_ What do you mean-” _

“As soon as we land, you and the big man have a meeting between the Ninth Boss of the Vongola! Get this whole ‘fake’ marriage ridiculousness out of the way.” She grabbed his shoulder, turning him. 

“You’re telling me the Ninth is mediating a meeting on who has the _ right _to take me? I am NOT a doll!” She sneered. Lussuria put his hand up, calming her down, as her voice was echoing in the creepy emptiness of the ship.

“Honey, don’t worry. Xanxus was clear to the entire team that you married him a while ago and even showed Squ-chan the papers. I have to admit, it was pretty gutsy of you to accept his proposal! And what a tease for you to dash away like that, knowing he enjoys a chase!” 

She felt very misunderstood. “Lussuria, listen-” He cut over her, still monologuing in his fantasies. 

“When Sawada tried to tell us that it was an accident, I doubted it. Boss is really a handsome man, a catch, though_ I _wouldn't say that to his face of course. I’m sure he would be thrilled if you did.”

She didn’t bother answering that insinuation, a chill running down her back. The real problem was all opportunities for an escape were failing. 

“I am going to be forced to choose between the Adesso and the Varia.” She said aloud, the realization hitting her. She had been _ outfoxed. _Before she could even think!

“You’re already married to the Boss, so it’s not _ really _a choice,” Lussuria said humorously. Her mind went blank, and for a while, she just followed.

By that time, they had reached a staircase and ascended. At the top was a deck, much louder, and she could hear familiar voices behind a door in front of her. So it was a plane, she noticed, looking out a window.

Lussuria directed her towards the back, to an unassuming door. He pressed his palm into a touchpad, smiling down at her. She blinked blankly. 

“We were having problems with practical jokes. Xanxus gave me permission to use it for you though! You _ are _sort of like his queen now.” A sweatdrop appeared on her head.

“Don’t say things like that.” 

The door opened, and her lips opened in awe. 

Before she was the nicest plane bathroom she had ever seen. Gold and marble gleamed from every corner, a gracious shower in one corner, sink in another. There was a toilet with a stupid gold rim as well. There was also a leather seat under the sink.

“This is Xanxus personal bathroom, but others will sneak in when he’s not on missions or trips. When he does, we are relegated to the unfun bathrooms.”

“Uh.”

Lussuria pulled her large makeup bag in, setting the clothes she had ignored on the sink counter. With a flourish, he bowed like fulfilling some strange butler fantasy he may have had, and shut the door behind her.

Blessed silence reigned.

She took a deep breath, leaning against the door, head down. For a moment she just kneeling, breathing intensely. She couldn’t afford to pass out. After five or so minutes she stumbled to the mirror.

Immediately her lips twisted, mouth frowning in disgust. She was a _ wreak _. Her hair was greasy, signed and frizzy. The bun that held it back was all over the place. It was still the best-looking part of the image. She stripped off her clothes, leaving her naked. Reckless to do so without checking for cameras, but since it was Xanxus bathroom, she figured they didn’t have them. And if they had cameras here, she’d find the naked videos of each Varia and blackmail them into oblivion, wreaking their reputation. 

Her stomach had the biggest bruise, but her face was pretty bad. She frowned, touching a bandage on her forehead she hadn’t noticed, then turned to her bloodied lip.

And she just couldn’t think straight when she wasn’t beautiful looking. Insecurity bit at her insides. That was why, wasn’t it? Men thought they could walk all over her since she was pretty and had no _ famiglia _. 

No, no remorse right now. There was time for that later. Time for helping her brother once she got out of this debacle.

Margo began by turning on the shower, and she was grateful that there was water hot enough to burn. She frowned at the dirt coming off, as well as the congealed blood from her head and lip. There was the typical _ gratis _ shampoo, which did sort of make her frown lessen a touch. Even the Varia stole shampoo from hotels.

After a _ long _shower, she used one of the large towels to dry her hair, and the other wrapped around her body. She saw at the sink, the makeshift vanity as she laid out her tools. First was her hair. Blow dryer and pure Moroccan argan oil were brought out in turn, both performing their jobs, the outlet not shorting from her use. After her hair dried she curled her hair, doing a simple wavy curl. After a generous application of hairspray ensured that only the most brutal heat or manhandling would ruin her locks.

Then was her face. She normally didn’t go heavy on foundation, but today was a different story. She _ refused _ to look like a weak, battered woman in front of any mob boss. The moisturizer was a definite must with the amount of makeup she was going to put on. Using a brush she next applied the concealer with a brush, letting the thick layers hide her bruises. A touch of brightener was necessary to hide the dark circles under her eyes. After she lightly dusted bronzer one.

She went light on blush, only giving the barest touch to liven up her face. The eyes were always fun, and she went with a more dramatic cat eye with sheer eyeshadow. Thick mascara went on, making it hard for men _ not _ to focus on her eyes.

Her favorite part was the lips. So much could be done with the lips because there was so much that a woman could _ say _ with which color and shape she chose. Today, she would need confidence, which meant a vibrant dark red lip, a touch of plumb, emphasizing the generous size of her bow-shaped lips. She then set her make-up with a finisher, making sure that there wouldn’t be the slightest smudge.

A look to kill.

After she turned to the clothing. Folded in was a basic set of underwear exactly her size, making her cringe in discomfort. But she put the black silk on, feeling a bit too sexy. After she held out the outfit that had been chosen for her. She tilted her head at the modern sort of Jackie Kennedy number with matching heels. _ Chanel. _Someone did have expensively good taste in current fashion. 

She slipped the thin knit on, letting the form-fitting dress flow against her figure. It was a modest number, the sleeveless top covered by an accompanying jacket. It was a solid print dress, but the jacket had a soft overlay of embroidered flowered, creating a mature look that didn’t disregard feminine power. She looked like the wife of a prime minister, president, or another political moron. She raised an eyebrow, but put her stuff away, taking extra time to be precise in how she secured it. Never mistreat make-up, and it will never fail you.

If only people were the same.

Once ready, she went towards the door, which slid open as she pressed her palm against the inside sensor.

The metal clicked open, and Lussuria looked up from the magazine he had been reading outside.

“Oh my! Now, aren’t you a treat!” He exclaimed, grabbing her hands and pulling her out. “I can’t wait until everyone else sees you like this! No more little miss whore for you! You are classy now!”

“_ Whore?” _

Lussuria dragged her to the front of the plane, opening the door.


	10. 10- Aero

Lussuria opened the door for her.

The top-ranked members of the Varia were spread around the generous compartment, each relaxing in their own weird ways. Which included various activities like the blond guy throwing knives into a frog hat, Squalo Superbi screaming on the phone, A wild black-haired man constantly giving directions to various peons on how to properly cook a steak. At the head of the plane, in a plush red seat, sat the kingpin of the group.

Most of the chatter stopped as she entered, her head held high. 

“The whore’s finally done-” She heard something mutter, breathlessly. She walked forward, her gait casual but determined. She saw mouths drop, and even the nervous-looking attendant paused. As she stood in front of Xanxus chair she raised her head, she put on her haughtiest sneer.

He merely raised a thick brow at her approach, as if he had any right to question her. 

The man was in tight leather slacks, a white shirt that emphasized the thickly muscled chest underneath. He was tall, taller than she remembered, his mile-long legs crossed before him, straining the high-end leather. His personality was a strange stillness in the wildness of his group. She stood in her best power pose before him.

He didn’t bother even opening his eyes.

“Trash.” She bit her lip.

“ _ Excuse me _ ?” She said, in about three languages before settling on the same Italian he had used.

“Why did you take so long woman?” He said.

Her fists clenched her mouth in a thin line.  _ Where to begin?  _ Which language to begin cussing him out in? She adored Italian swear words but almost felt like she needed to say it in English just so she could get it perfect. 

_ You son of a - _

What might have been her last words were drowned out by the captain coming over the PA system in thick Italian. 

_ “Signori e signori, stiamo approcando la nostra destinazione. Si prega di essere pronti per l'atterraggio.”  _

She assumed it was a cursory alert, as the plane nosedived. A round of turbulence hit, the airplane  _ speeding up  _ as it began to descend rapidly, making her stumble forward. She was surprised when a hand grabbed her shoulder, only to thrust her back.

Xanxus had  _ swatted _ her away to hit into Squalo, both falling hard into the seat next to the boss, her falling into his lap. In a moment she was pushed to the ground, on her knees.

She glared up, ready to sneer back when a wine glass hit Squalo’s head, making him turn in anger.

“VOI! Get in your own stupid seat!”

“VOOOOIIIIIIIIIIIIII! WHAT THE HE-!”

“Shut up shark. Find another seat.” The second in command stomped off after giving her a dirty stare that she returned. She turned to Xanxus, finger pointed out.

“Listen, you son of a-” He kicked her into Squalo’s seat. She fell back, more out of shock than real force. She turned to say something else nasty.

“Woman _ shut the fuck up _ .”

The tone was so cold she did _ , _ if just out of instinctual self-preservation, than actual respect _ . _

She crossed her arms, looking  _ anywhere  _ but at the manhandling jerk. Across from her, the green-haired kid looked at her, his face expressionless. She caught his eye and he tilted his head, raising a finger.

“I punched you!” She said sharply, causing him to lower his finger, making a blonde-haired man laugh.

“The whore has terrible aim.” The green-haired boy said flatly. “Maybe she should kill herself now? It will happen eventually.”

She deadpanned, acutely aware she had  _ actually _ managed to hurt his pride without even trying. Her talent. 

“Ushishishi~ I wouldn’t pay attention to the froggy. He’s just bitter a commoner managed to knock him out.” The blonde in the crown said gleefully. “Pathetic, really.”

“Oi Senpai- You didn’t fare very well with that spider incident-” Lussuria laughed.

“The prince demands the peasant  _ shut up _ before he peels his sorry face off.”

Margo turned, only for Squalo to give her a look that made her consider jumping out of the plane. 

“Now dears, let’s be welcoming to little Margo!” Lussuria chided. “Take after Belphegor, Fran. Now Mammon had much better manners!”

“VOI. Shut your trap.” Squalo growled, turning to his phone.

_ She wished the seat would eat her. _

Seated closest to her, was a grungy looking guy occasionally giving her strange glances. His black hair was wild, and he had some god awful waxed sideburns. He looked like he had about a million questions he didn’t dare ask,  _ which is about how she felt. _

She bit her lips casually glancing around again. 

A plan. She needed a plan. Plans always calmed her. As she relaxed, the sound around her faded, and like digital words superimposed on a movie, she began creating mental notes. She needed an escape plan.

She zeroed in on the mint colored one,  _ Fran _ , as she heard him called. He was the easiest to peel apart, to take note, because his apathy made his priorities clear. He didn’t want to be here, or even in the Varia, she concluded. He seemed to especially have a sore spot for the next one, Belphegor.

Yes, the one called Prince Ripper. She had time to look him up on the mafia internet, but it seems he was more a myth than a reality. He clearly hated Fran, constantly focusing on his abilities- jealous? No, it seems as though there was a different person in the position before Fran took it. His covered eyes indicated a character that wanted to retain an air of anonymity. 

Lussuria was next. Metrosexual, great fashion sense, and flamboyant, his motivation was clear. He was an adrenaline junkie who thrived on the satisfaction of winning, likely a base sort of thrill was involved. He clearly wasn’t interested in her in more than a perfunctory way, so it was likely he wasn’t attracted to the feminine gender. 

Squalo Superbi. Not only had she used his name to insult someone, but it was clear the man thought she was beneath his notice. Despite the fact she was 100% confident he  _ despised  _ her and would kill her at the first opportunity, he was supremely interesting. She had yet to decide if it was also due to her apparent allure for his boss, or that she had probably derailed his schedule as well. He had pride written all over him which is a bad mix in a situation like this.

The guy next to her seemed like the mentally weakest of them all. He seemed to jump to attention when Xanxus moved. She realized she might have a rival for the boss’s alleged affections. 

_ Probability of success in straight-up battle: 1%  _

_ Probability of success in manipulation tactics: 15%:  _

_ Probability of success in attempted escape: .2% _

_ _

That wasn’t even counting the big bad boss. 

The plan wasn’t working. 

Xanxus was one hundred times harder to discern than even his highest subordinates here. His intentions eluded her sharp deduction skills. Why had he married her? Why had Reborn let him? What was really going on?

She didn’t know. 

Irritating. Very irritating.

He didn’t talk to those around him, and she was left with his appearance, the small shifts every human-made. She tried to find clues to which hand he favored in battle, but they seemed equal. Ambidextrous? She frowned. He was composed and so very still, looking relaxed but taking everything in. 

Dangerous. 

He was so goddamn casual, sitting like a black king over his moronic brood of demons. Occasionally he would drink from his glass, give a pointed glare when someone was too loud. As she learned it was almost impossible to  _ talk _ to him. He was a cut above just about any she had ever met, and she wondered if Tsuna actually faced off with this man. He even had mentioned that he was  _ less angry now _ than when he was younger. 

_ Which begged the question- why was she here? _ Because she was a pretty trophy wife or her old honeypot reputation was on the rise? 

Did the Adesso hire the Varia, and they thought this was a hilarious way to fulfill the mission? Was the Varia working for them? No, her family was a pain to deal with. There was no real answer! 

Xanxus must have noticed her steady evaluation, because his red eyes snapped open, making Levi jump. She was still, like a snake ready to strike. No more bending, no more intimidation.

She narrowed her eyes, not bowing down or looking away. Perhaps he would let her go if she was able to show what a threat she was.

_ I will send you over to the inferno, she glared. _

He smirked.

_ You can try, he replied. _

_ “ _ Where’s the good whiskey?” He turned, snapping at Levi, who jumped to attention. “Bring a cup for all the trash here. We should celebrate.”

“Yes, boss!” He ran off, trying to remain balanced on the landing plane. Squalo turned, crossing a leg and sneering.

“Celebrate  _ what _ ?” Squalo complained, hand up. “This crap-fest?”

“His marriage,” Fran said blandly, “Stupid long-haired commander.”

“What the hell you say frog!” He yelled, only to be hit by a spare piece of furniture. Margo put her head in her hands, thoroughly mortified, and feeling the oncoming headache. She covertly looked up at the man, who smirked back at her. Suddenly she realized that she and Xanxus had something in common. 

They both thought Squalo needed his mouth screwed shut. 


End file.
